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A CHILD-WORLD 



MR. RILEY'S BOOKS 

Neghborly Poems; on Friendship, Grief and 
Farm Life— Including the " Old Swimmin'-Hoie " 
series. 

Sketches in Prose— With occasional Poems. 

Afterwh I les— Serious and Dialect Verse. 

Pipes O' Pan— Five Sketches and Fifty Poems. 

Rhymes of Childhood— Child-Dialect and other 
Verses. 

The Flying Islands of the Night— A Fantastic 
Drama in Verse. 

Green Fields and Running Brooks— Dialect and 
Serious Poems. 

ARMAZINDY — Hoosier Harvest Airs, Feigned Forms 
and Child Rhymes. 

A Child-World — A Continuous Chronicle in Verse 
of Child Life, Old Home Tales and Episodes. 

Any of above, post-paid, for $1.25. 

An Old Sweetheart of Mine— Colored and Alon- 
otint Plates, 8x10 flat quarto, post-paid, $2.50. 

Poems Here at Home— Dialect and other Poems, 
post-paid, $1.50. 

Old Fashioned Roses (English Edition)— Poems, 
Dialect and various, post-paid. $1.75. 



The Bowen-Merrill Co., Indianapolis 



A CHILD-WORLD 



BY ^ 

JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY 






U10C 



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INDIANAPOLIS AND KANSAS CITY 

THE BOWEN-MERR1LL COMPANY 

1897 



#* - 



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*-i 







Copyright 1896 

by 

James Whitcomb Riley 



TO 

MR. AND MRS. CHARLES L. HOLSTEIN 



r jTHE CHILD- WORLD— -long and long since lost to view 
A Fairy Paradise! — 
How always fair it was and fresh and new — 

How every affluent hour heaped heart and eyes 
With treasures of surprise ! 

Enchantments tangible : The under-brink 

Of dawns that launched the sight 

Up seas of gold : The dewdrop on the pink. 

With all the green earth in it and blue height 
Of heavens infinite : 

The liquid, dripping songs of orchard-birds — 

The wee bass of the bees, — 
With lucent deeps of silence afterwards ; 

The gay, clandestine whisperings of the breeze 
And glad leaves of the trees. 



O Child-World : After this world — just as when 

I found you first sufficed 
My soulmost need — // / found you again, 

With all my childish dream so realised, 
I should not be surprised. 



CONTENTS 



PROEM , . . 15 

The Child-World " 

The Old Home Folks . . . . • • • • • " 6 

Almon Keefer » 5° 

NOEY BlXLER , . . . 56 

"A Noted Traveler" ,,.,..■• 66 

A Prospective Visit . . . 6g 

At Noey's House .....»••• 71 



CONTEXTS 



II 

"That Little Dog" 7 g 

The Loehrs and The Hammonds 81 

The Hired Man and Floretty 88 

The Evening Company g9 

Maymie's Story of Red Riding Hood I04 

Limitations of Genius 114 

Mr. Hammond's Parable— The Dreamer XI $ 

Floretty's Musical Contribution I23 

Bud's Fairy-Tale I30 

A Delicious Interruption . . 

• • 143 

NOEY'S NiGHT-PlECE 

• • • 145 



CONTENTS 



III 
Cousin Rufus' Story i 5 i 

Bewildering Emotions 161 

Alex Tells a Bear Story 163 

The Pathos of Applause 172 

Told by "The Noted Traveler" 175 

Heat Lightning 187 

Uncle Mart's Poem 191 

"Little Jack Janitor" 199 

Finale 



A CHILD-WORLD 



THE CHILD-WORLD 



A CHILD-WORLD, yet a wondrous world no less, 
To those who knew its boundless happiness, 
A simple old frame house— eight rooms in all- 
Set just one side the center of a small 
But very hopeful Indiana town, — 
The upper-story looking squareiy down 
Upon the main street, and the main highway 
From East to West,— historic in its day, 
Known as The National Road— old-timers, all 
Who linger yet, will happily recall 
It as the scheme and handiwork, as well 
As property, of " Uncle Sam," and tell 
Of its importance, "long and long afore 
Railroads wuz ever dreamp* of! " — Furthermore, 

17 



A CHILD-WORLD 

The reminiscent first inhabitants 

Will make that old road blossom with romance 

Of snowy caravans, in long parade 

Of covered vehicles, of every grade 

From ox-cart of most primitive design, 

To Conestoga wagons, with their fine 

Deep-chested six-horse teams, in heavy gear, 

High names and chiming bells— to childish ear 

And eye entrancing as the glittering train 

Of some sun-smitten pageant of old Spain. 

And, in like spirit, haply they will tell 

You of the roadside forests, and the yell 

Of "wolfs" and " painters," in the long night-ride, 

And "screechin' catamounts" on every side. — 

Of stagecoach-days, highwaymen, and strange crimes, 

And yet unriddled mysteries of the times 

Called "Good Old." "And why 'Good Old'?" once a rare 

Old chronicler was asked, who brushed the hair 



THE OLD HOME 

Out of his twinkling eyes and said,— "Well John, 
They're 'good old times' because they're dead and gone ! " 

The old home site was portioned into three 

Distinctive lots. The front one — natively 

Facing to southward, broad and gaudy-fine 

With lilac, dahlia, rose, and flowering vine — 

The dwelling stood in ; and behind that, and 

Upon the alley north and south, left hand, 

The old wood-house, — half, trimly stacked with wood, 

And half, a work-shop, where a workbench stood 

Steadfastly through all seasons.— Over it, 

Along the wall, hung compass, brace-and-bit, 

And square, and drawing-knife, and smoothing-piane— 

And little jack-plane, too— the children's vain 

Possession by pretense— in fancy they 

Manipulating it in endless play, 



19 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Turning out countless curls and loops of bright, 

Fine satin shavings — Rapture infinite! 

Shelved quilting-frames ; the toolchest; the old box 

Qi refuse nails and screws ; a rough gun-stock's 

Outline in "curly maple"; and a pair 

Of clamps and old krout-cutter hanging there. 

Some " patterns," in thin wood, of shield and scroll, 

Hung higher, with a neat "cane-fishing-pole" 

And careful tackle — all securely out 

Of reach of children, rummaging about. 

Beside the wood-house, with broad branches free 

Yet close above the roof, an apple-tree 

Known as "The Prince's Harvest" — Magic phrase! 

That was a boys own tree, in many ways! — 

Its girth and height meet both for the caress 

Of his bare legs and his ambitiousness: 



20 



A B02"S OWN TREE 

And then its apples, humoring his whim, 

Seemed just to fairly hurry ripe for him— 

Even in June, impetuous as he, 

They dropped to meet him, halfway up the tree. 

And O their bruised sweet faces where they fell !— 

And ho! the lips that feigned to "kiss them well"! 

"The Old Sweet-Apple-Tree," a stalwart, stood 

In fairly sympathetic neighborhood 

Of this wild princeling with his early gold 

To toss about so lavishly nor hold 

In bounteous hoard to overbrim at once 

All Nature's lap when came the Autumn months. 

Under the spacious shade of this the eyes 

Of swinging children saw swift-changing skies 

Of blue and green, with sunshine shot between, 

And "when the old cat died " they saw but green. 



21 



A CHILD-WORLD 

And, then, there was a cherry-tree.— We all 
And severally will yet recall 
From our lost youth, in gentlest memory, 
The blessed fact — There was a cherry-tree. 

There was a cherry-tree. Its bloomy snows 
Cool even now the fevered sight that knows 
No mora its airy visions of pure joy — 
As when you were a boy. 

There was a cherry-tree. The Bluejay set 
His blue against its white — O blue as jat 
He seemed there then 1— But now— Whoever kr.ew 
He was so pale a blue! 

There was a cherry-tree — Our child-eyes saw 
The miracle:— Its pure white snows did thaw 
Into a crimson fruitage, far too sweet 
But for a boy to eat. 

There was a cherry-tree, give thanks and joy!— 
There was a bloom of snow — There was a boy — 
There was a Blutjay cf the realest blue— 
And fruit for both of you. 



THE GA RDEN A ND THE MA R TIN- BOX 

Then the old garden, with the apple-trees 
Grouped 'round the margin, and "a stand of bees" 
By the " white-winter-pearmain"; and a row 
Of currant-bushes; and a quince or so. 
The old grape-arbor in the center, by 
The pathway to the stable, with the sty 
Behind it, and upon it, cootering flocks 
Of pigeons, — and the cutest "martin-box"! — 
Made like a sure-enough house — with roof, and doors 
And windows in it, and veranda-floors 
And balusters all 'round it — yes, and at 
Each end a chimney — painted red at that 
And penciled white, to look like little bricks; 
And, to cap all the builder's cunning tricks, 
Two tiny little lightning-rods were run 
Straight up their sides, and twinkled in the sun. 
Who built it? Nay, no answer but a smile. — 
It may be you can guess who, afterwhile. 

23 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Home in his stall, " Old Sorrel " munched his hay 
And oats and corn, and switched the flies away, 
In a repose of patience good to see, 
And earnest of the gentlest pedigree. 
With half pathetic eye sometimes he gazed 
Upon the gambols of a colt that grazed 
Around the edges of the lot outside, 
And kicked at nothing suddenly, and tried 
To act grown-up and graceful and high-bred, 
But dropped, h'whop! and scraped the buggy-shed, 
Leaving a tuft of woolly, foxy hair 
Under the sharp-end of a gate-hinge there. 
Then, all ignobly scrambling to his feet 
And whinneying a whinney like a bleat, 
He would pursue himself around the lot 
And — do the whole thing over, like as not! . . . 
Ah ! what a life of constant fear and dread 
And flop and squawk and flight the chickens led ! 

24 



THE L O VEL T NEIGH B OR HO OD 

Above the fences, either side, were seen 

The neighbor-houses, set in plots of green 

Dooryards and greener gardens, tree and wall 

Alike whitewashed, and order in it all: 

The scythe hooked in the tree-fork ; and the spade 

And hoe and rake and shovel all, when laid 

Aside, were in their places, ready for 

The hand of either the possessor or 

Of any neighbor, welcome to the loan 

Of any tool he might not chance to own. 



25 



s 



THE OLD HOME FOLKS 

UCH was the Child-World of the long-ago— 
The little world these children used to know 
Johnty, the oldest, and the best, perhaps, 
Of the five happy little Hoosier chaps 
Inhabiting this wee world all their own. — 
Johnty, the leader, with his native tone 
Of grave command — a general on parade 
Whose each punctilious order was obeyed 
By his proud followers. 

But Johnty yet — 
After all serious duties— could forget 
The gravity of life to the extent, 
At times, of kindling much astonishment 
About him : With a quick, observant eye, 
And mind and memory, he could supply 

26 



JuHNTT AND HIS CONSCIENCE 

The tamest incident with liveliest mirth ; 

And at the most unlooked-for times on earth 

Was wont to break into some travesty 

On those around him— feats of mimicry 

Of this one's trick of gesture— that one's walk— 

Or this one's laugh — or that one's funny talk, — 

The way "the watermelon-man" would try 

His humor on town-folks that wouldn't buy; — 

How he drove into town at morning— then 

At dusk (alas!) how he drove out again. 

Though these divertisements of Johnty's were 
Hailed with a hearty glee and relish, there 
Appeared a sense, on his part, of regret — 
A spirit of remorse that would not let 
Him rest for days thereafter.— Such times he, 
As some boy said, "jist got too overly 



V 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Blame good fer common boys like us, you know, 
To 'sociate with — less'n we 'ud go 
And jine his church ! " 

Next after Johnty came 
His little tow-head brother, Bud by name. — 
And O how white his hair was — and how thick 
His face with freckles, — and his ears, how quick 
And curious and intrusive! — And how pale 
The blue of his big eyes ; — and how a tale 
Of Giants, Trolls or Fairies, bulged them still 
Bigger and bigger! — And when "Jack" would kill 
The old " Four-headed Giant," Bud's big eyes 
Were swollen truly into giant-size. 
And Bud was apt in make-believes— would hear 
His Grandma talk or read, with such an ear 
And memory of both subject and big words, 
That he would take the book up afterwards 

28 



BUD AND TUB SUPERLATIVE 

And feign to " read aloud," with such success 

As caused his truthful elders real distress. 

But he must have fa'g words — they seemed to give 

Extremer range to the superlative — 

That was his passion. "My Gran'ma," he said, 

One evening, after listening as she read 

Some heavy old historical review — 

With copious explanations thereunto 

Drawn out by his inquiring turn of mind, — 
" My Gran'ma she's read all books — ever' kind 

They is, 'at tells all 'bout the land an' sea 

An' Nations of the Earth ! — An' she is the 

Historicul-est woman ever wuz ! " 

(Forgive the verse's chuckling as it does 

In its erratic current. — Oftentimes 

The little willowy waterbrook of rhymes 

Must falter in its music, listening to 

The children laughing as they used to do.) 

29 



A CHILD-WOULD 

Who shall sing a simple ditty all about the Willow, 
Dainty-fine and delicate as any bending spray 

That dandles high the happy bird that flutters there to trill a 
Tremulously tender song of greeting to the May. 

Ah, my lovely Willow ! — Let the Waters lilt your graces, — 
They alone with limpid kisses lave your leaves above, 

Flashing back your sylvan beauty, and in shady places 
Peering up with glimmering pebbles, like the eyes of love. 

Next, Maymie, with her hazy cloud of hair, 
And the blue skies of eyes beneath it there. 
Her dignified and " little lady " airs 
Of never either romping up the stairs 
Or falling down them ; thoughtful everyway 
Of others first — The kind of child at play 
That " gave up," for the rest, the ripest pear 
Or peach or apple in the garden there 
Beneath the trees where swooped the airy swing — 
She pushing it, too glad for anything ! 

30 



MATMIE AND ALEX 

Or, in the character of hostess, she 
Would entertain her friends delightfully 
In her play-house, — with strips of carpet laid 
Along the garden-fence within the shade 
Of the old apple-trees — where from next yard- 
Came the two dearest friends in her regard, 
The little Crawford girls, Ella and Lu — 
As shy and lovely as the lilies grew 
In their idyllic home, — yet sometimes they 
Admitted Bud and Alex to their play, 
Who did their heavier work and helped them fix 
To have a "Festibul" — and brought the bricks 
And built the "stove," with a real fire and all, 
And stovepipe-joint for chimney, looming tall 
And wonderfully smoky— even to 
Their childish aspirations, as it blew 
And swooped and swirled about them till their sight 
Was feverish even as their high delight. 

3i 



A CHILD- WORLD 

Then Alex, with his freckles, and his freaks 

Of temper, and the peach-bloom of his cheeks, 

And "amber-colored hair" — his mother said 

'Twas that, when others laughed and called it "red" 

And Alex threw things at them— till they'd call 

A truce, agreeing '"t'uz n't red ut-tall!" 

But Alex was affectionate beyond 

The average child, and was extremely fond 

Of the paternal relatives of his 

Of whom he once made estimate like this : — 

" Vm only got two brothers,— but my ra 

He's got most brothers'n you ever saw! — 

He's got seben brothers !— Yes, an' they're all my 

Seben Uncles .'—Uncle John, an' Jim, — an' I' 

Got Uncle George, an' Uncle Andy, too, 

An' Uncle Frank, an' Uncle Joe.— An' you 



32 



LITTLE LIZZIE AND THE PARENTS 

Know Uncle Mart.— An', all but him, they're great 
Big mens! — An' nen's Aunt Sarah — she makes eight! — 
I'm got eight uncles! — 'cept Aunt Sarah can't 
Be ist my uncle 'cause she's ist my aunt!" 

Then, next to Alex — and the last indeed 

Of these five little ones of whom you read — 

Was baby Lizzie, with her velvet lisp, — 

As though her Elfin lips had caught some wisp 

Of floss between them as they strove with speech, 

Which ever seemed just in yet out of reach — 

Though what her lips missed, her dark eyes could say 

With looks that made her meaning clear as day. 

And, knowing now the children, you must know 
The father and the mother they loved so : — 
The father was a swarthy man, black-eyed, 
Black-haired, and high of forehead ; and, beside 
3 33 



A CHILD-WORLD 

The slender little mother, seemed in truth 
A very king of men — since, from his youth, 
To his hale manhood now — (worthy as then, — 
A lawyer and a leading citizen 
Of the proud little town and county-seat— 
His hopes his neighbors', and their fealty sweet)— 
He had known outdoor labor— rain and shine — 
Bleak Winter, and bland Summer — foul and fine. 
So Nature had ennobled him and set 
Her symbol on him like a coronet: 
His lifted brow, and frank, reliant face.— 
Superior of stature as of grace, 
Even the children by the spell were wrought 
Up to heroics of their simple thought, 
And saw him, trim of build, and lithe and straight 
And tall, almost, as at the pasture-gate 
The towering iron weed the scythe had spared 
For their sakes, whea The Hired Man declared 

34 



THE GENTLE MOTHER 

It would grow on till it became a tree, 
With cocoanuts and monkeys in — maybe! 

Yet, though the children, in their pride and awe 

And admiration of the father, saw 

A being so exalted — even more 

Like adoration was the love they bore 

The gentle mother. — Her mild, plaintive face 

Was purely fair, and haloed with a grace 

And sweetness luminous when joy made glad 

Her features with a smile ; or saintly sad 

As twilight, fell the sympathetic gloom 

Of any childish grief, or as a room 

Were darkened suddenly, the curtain drawn 

Across the window and the sunshine gone. 

Her brow, below her fair hair's glimmering strands, 

Seemed meetest resting-place for blessing hands 



35 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Or holiest touches of soft finger-tips 
And little roseleaf-cheeks and dewy lips. 

Though heavy household tasks were pitiless, 
No little waist or coat or checkered dress 
But knew her needle's deftness ; and no skill 
Matched hers in shaping pleat or flounce or frill ; 
Or fashioning, in complicate design, 
All rich embroideries of leaf and vine, 
With tiniest twining tendril,— bud and bloom 
And fruit, so like, one's fancy caught perfume 
And dainty touch and taste of them, to see 
Their semblance wrought in such rare verity. 

Shrined in her sanctity of home and love, 
And love's fond service and reward thereof, 
Restore her thus, O blessed Memory ! — 
Throned in her rocking-chair, and on her knee 

36 



THE SILENT POEM 

Her sewing — her workbasket on the floor 

Beside her, — Springtime through the open door 

Balmily stealing in and all about 

The room; the bees' dim hum, and the far shout 

And laughter of the children at their play, 

And neighbor-children from across the way 

Calling in gleeful challenge — save alone 

One boy whose voice sends back no answering tone- 

The boy, prone on the floor, above a book 

Of pictures, with a rapt, ecstatic look — 

Even as the mother's, by the selfsame spell, 

Is lifted, with a light ineffable — 

As though her senses caught no mortal cry, 

But heard, instead, some poem going by. 

The Child-heart is so strange a little thing— 

So mild— so timorously shy and small, — 
When grown-up hearts throb, it goes scampering 

Behind the wall, nor dares peer out at all! — 

37 



A CHILD-WORLD 



It is the veriest mouse 
That hides in any house- 
So wild a little thing is any Child heart! 

Child-heart 1 — mild heart ! — 
Ho, my little wild heart ! — 
Come up here to vie out o' the dark, 
Or let me come to you ! 

So lorn at times the Child-heart needs must be, 

With never one maturer heart for friend 
And comrade, whose tear-ripened sympathy 
And love might lend it comfort to the end,— 
Whose yearnings, aches and stings, 
Over poor little things 
Were pitiful as ever any Child-heart. 

Child-heart ! — mild heart .' — 
Ho, my little wild heart ! — 
Come up here to me out o' the dark, 
Or let me come to you ! 

Times, too, the little Child-heart must be glad- 
Being so young, nor knowing, as we know, 

The fact from fantasy, the good from bad, 
The joy from woe, the— all that hurts us so! 

3S 



OLD SCENES AND SOUNDS 



What wonder then that thus 
It hides away from us? — 
So weak a little thing is any Child-heart! 

Child-heart ! — mild heart ! — 
Ho, my little wild heart ! — 
Come up here to me out o' the dark, 
Or let me come to you ! 

Nay. little Child-heart, you have never need 
To fear us; — we are weaker far than you — 
Tis we who should be fearful — we indeed 
Should hide us, too, as darkly as you do, — 
Safe, as yourself, withdrawn, 
Hearing the World roar on 
Too willful, woful, awful for the Child-heart ! 

Child-heart ! — mild heart ! — 
Ho, my little wild heart ! — 
Come up here to me out o' the dark, 
Or let me come to you ! 

The clock chats on confidingly ; a rose 
Taps at the window, as the sunlight throws 

39 



A CHILD-WORLD 

A brilliant, jostling checkerwork of shine 
And shadow, like a Persian-loom design, 
Across the homemade carpet— fades, — and then 
The dear old colors are themselves again. 
Sounds drop in visiting from everywhere — 
The bluebird's and the robin's trill are there, 
Their sweet liquidity diluted some 
By dewy orchard spaces they have come: 
Sounds of the town, too, and the great highway- 
The Mover-wagons' rumble, and the neigh 
Of overtraveled horses, and the bleat 
Of sheep and low of cattle through the street— 
A Nation's thoroughfare of hopes and fears, 
First blazed by the heroic pioneers 
Who gave up old-home idols and set face 
Toward the unbroken West, to found a race 
And tame a wilderness now mightier than 
All peoples and all tracts American. 

40 



HOUSEHOLD HARMONIES 

Blent with all outer sounds, the sounds within : — 

In mild remoteness falls the household din 

Of porch and kitchen : the dull jar and thump 

Of churning; and the "glung-glung " of the pump, 

With sudden pad and skurry of bare feet 

Of little outlaws, in from field or street : 

The clang of kettle,— rasp of damper-ring 

And bang of cookstove-door — and everything 

That jingles in a busy kitchen lifts 

Its individual wrangling voice and drifts 

In sweetest tinny, coppery, pewtery tone 

Of music hungry ear has ever known 

In wildest famished yearning and conceit 

Of youth, to just cut loose and eat and eat ! — 

The zest of hunger still incited on 

To childish desperation by long-drawn 

Breaths of hot, steaming, wholesome things that stew 

And blubber, and up-tilt the pot-lids, too, 

4i 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Filling the sense with zestful rumors of 
The dear old-fashioned dinners children love : 
Redolent savorings of home-cured meats, 
Potatoes, beans, and cabbage; turnips, beets 
And parsnips — rarest composite entire 
That ever pushed a mortal child's desire 
To madness by new-grated fresh, keen, sharp 
Horseradish — tang that sets the lips awarp 
And watery, anticipating all 
The cloyed sweets of the glorious festival. — 
Still add the cinnamony, spicy scents 
Of clove, nutmeg, and myriad condiments 
In like-alluring whiffs that prophesy 
Of sweltering pudding, cake, and custard pie — 
The swooning-sweet aroma haunting all 
The house— upstairs and down — porch, parlor, hall 
And sitting-room — invading even where 
The Hired Man sniffs it in the orchard-air, 

42 



COUSIN RUFUS AND UNCLE MART 

And pauses in his pruning of the trees 
To note the sun minutely and to — sneeze. 

Then Cousin Rufus comes — the children hear 
His hale voice in the old hall, ringing clear 
As any bell. Always he came with song 
Upon his lips and all the happy throng 
Of echoes following him, even as the crowd 
Of his admiring little kinsmen — proud 
To have a cousin grown — and yet as young 
Of soul and cheery as the songs he sung. 

He was a student of the law — intent 

Soundly to win success, with all it meant; 

And so he studied— even as he played, — 

With all his heart: And so it was he made 

His gallant fight for fortune— through all stress 

Of battle bearing him with cheeriness 

And wholesome valor. 

43 



A CHILD-WORLD 

And the children had 
Another relative who kept them glad 
And joyous by his very merry ways — 
As blithe and sunny as the summer days, — 
Their father's youngest brother — Uncle Mart. 
The old "Arabian Nights" he knew by heart— 
" Baron Munchausen," too ; and likewise " The 
Swiss Family Robinson." — And when these three 
Gave out, as he rehearsed them, he could go 
Straight on in the same line — a steady flow 
Of arabesque invention that his good 
Old mother never clearly understood. 
He was to be a printer — wanted, though, 
To be an actor. — But the world was "show" 
Enough for him, — theatric, airy, gay, — 
Each day to him was jolly as a play. 
And some poetic symptoms, too, in sooth, 
Were certain. — And, from his apprentice youth, 

44 



THE TREE-HOUSE 

He joyed in verse-quotations — which he took 
Out of the old " Type Foundry Specimen Book." 
He craved and courted most the favor of 
The children. — They were foremost in his love ; 
And pleasing them, he pleased his own boy-heart 
And kept it young and fresh in every part. 
So was it he devised for them and wrought 
To life his quaintest, most romantic thought: — 
Like some lone castaway in alien seas, 
He built a house up in the apple-trees, 
Out in the corner of the garden, where 
No man-devouring native, prowling there, 
Might pounce upon them in the dead o' night— 
For lo, their little. ladder, slim and light, 
They drew up after them. And it was known 
That Uncle Mart slipped up sometimes alone 
And drew the ladder in, to lie and moon 
Over some novel all the afternoon, 

45 



A CHILD-WORLD 

And one time Johnty, from the crowd below, — 
Outraged to find themselves deserted so — 
Threw bodily their old black cat up in 
The airy fastness, with much yowl and din 
Resulting, while a wild periphery 
Of cat went circling to another tree, 
And, in impassioned outburst, Uncle Mart 
Loomed up, and thus relieved his tragic heart : 

" * Hence , long-tailed, ebon-eyed, nocturnal ranger! 

What led thee hither 'mongst the types and cases? 

Didst thou not know that running midnight races 
Ccr standing types was fraught with imminent danger? 
Did hunger lead thee — didst thou think to find 

Some rich old cheese to fill thy hungry maw? 

Vain hope ! for none but literary jaw 
Can masticate our cookery for the mind!'" 



46 



THE DINNER AND THE GUESTS 

P 

So likewise when, with lordly air and grace, 
He strode to dinner, with a tragic face 
With ink-spots on it from the office, he 
Would aptly quote more "Specimen-poetry — " 
Perchance like "'Labor's bread is sweet to eat, 
(Ahem!) And toothsome is the toiler's meat.' " 

Ah, could you see them all, at lull of noon ! — 
A sort of boisterous lull, with clink of spoon 
And clatter of deflecting knife, and plate 
Dropped saggingly, with its all-bounteous weight, 
And dragged in place voraciously ; and then 
Pent exclamations, and the lull again. — 
The garland of glad faces 'round the board — 
Each member of the family restored 
To his or her place, with an extra chair 
Or two for the chance guests so often there.— 



A7 



A CHILD-WORLD 

The father's farmer-client, brought home from 
The courtroom, though he "didn't want to come 
Tel he jist saw he hat to!" he'd explain, 
Invariably, time and time again, 
To the pleased wife and hostess, as she pressed 
Another cup of coffee on the guest. — 
Or there was Johnty's special chum, perchance, 
Or Bud's, or both — each childish countenance 
Lit with a higher glow of youthful glee, 
To be together thus unbrokenly, — 
Jim Offutt, or Eck Skinner, or George Carr — 
The very nearest chums of Bud's these are, — 
So, very probably, one of the three, 
At least, is there with Bud, or ought to be. 
Like interchange the town-boys each had known- 
His playmate's dinner better than his own — 
Yet blest that he was ever made to stay 
At Almon Keefer's, any blessed day, 

48 



A T ALMON REEFER'S 

For any meal ! . . . Visions of biscuits, hot 

And flaky-perfect, with the golden blot 

Of molten butter for the center, clear, 

Through pools of clover-honey — dear-o-Jear! — 

With creamy milk for its divine " farewell": 

And then, if any one delectable 

Might yet exceed in sweetness, O restore 

The cherry-cobbler of the days of yore 

Made only by Al Keefer's mother! — Why, 

The very thought of it ignites the eye 

Of memory with rapture— cloys the lip 

Of longing, till it seems to ooze and drip 

With veriest juice and stain and overwaste 

Of that most sweet delirium of taste 

That ever visited the childish tongue, 

Or proved, as now, the sweetest thing unsung. 



49 



ALMON KEEPER 

AH, ALMON KEEFER ! what a boy you were, 
With your back-tilted hat and careless hair, 
And open, honest, fresh, fair face and eyes 
With their all-varying looks of pleased surprise 
And joyous interest in flower and tree, 
And poising humming-bird, and maundering bee. 

The fields and woods he knew ; the tireless tramp 
With gun and dog ; and the night-fisher's camp — 
No other boy, save Bee Lineback, had won 
Such brilliant mastery of rod and gun. 
Even in his earliest childhood had he shown 
These traits that marked him as his father's own. 
Dogs all paid Almon honor and bow-wowed 
Allegiance, let him come in any crowd 
Of rabbit-hunting town-boys, even though 
His own dog " Sleuth" rebuked their acting so 
With jealous snarls and growlings. 

5o 



ALMONS LITERARY LEANINGS 

But the best 
Of Almon's virtues— leading all the rest- 
Was his great love of books, and skill as well 
In reading them aloud, and by the spell 
Thereof enthralling his mute listeners, as 
They grouped about him in the orchard grass, 
Hinging their bare shins in the mottled shine 
And shade, as they lay prone, or stretched supine 
Beneath their favorite tree, with dreamy eyes 
And Argo-fancies voyaging the skies. 
" Tales of the Ocean " was the name of one 
Old dog's-eared book that was surpassed by none 
Of all the glorious list.— Its back was gone, 
But its vitality went bravely on 
In such delicious tales of land and sea 
As may not ever perish utterly. 
Of still more dubious caste, "Jack Sheppard" drew 
Full admiration ; and " Dick Turpin," too, 

51 



A CHILD-WORLD 

And, painful as the fact is to convey, 
In certain lurid tales of their own day, 
These boys found thieving heroes and outlaws 
They hailed with equal fervor of applause : 
"The League of the Miami"— why, the name 
Alone was fascinating — is the same, 
In memory, this venerable hour 
Of moral wisdom shorn of all its power, 
As it unblushingly reverts to when 
The old barn was "the Cave," and hears again 
The signal blown, outside the buggy-shed — 
The drowsy guard within uplifts his head, 
And "'Who goes tliere? 1 " is called, in bated breath — 
The challenge answered in a hush of death, — 
Sh \— 'Barney Gray!' " And then " 'What do you seek .?' " 
Stables of The League? " the voice comes spent and weak, 
For, ha! the law is on the "Chieftain's" trail- 
Tracked to his very lair !— Well, what avail? 



<< 



i< i 



THE ROBBER-CHIEF 

The "secret entrance" opens — closes. — So 

The "Robber-Captain" thus outwits his foe; 

And, safe once more within his "cavern-halls," 

He shakes his clenched fist at the warped plank-walls 

And mutters his defiance through the cracks 

At the balked Enemy's retreating backs 

As the loud horde flees pell-mell down the lane, 

And — Almon Keefer is himself again ! 

Excepting few, they were not books indeed 
Of deep import that Almon chose to read ;— 
Less fact than fiction.— Much he favored those — 
If not in poetry, in hectic prose — 
That made our native Indian a wild, 
Feathered and fine-preened hero that a child 
Could recommend as just about the thing 
To make a god of, or at feast a king. 



53 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Aside from Almon's own books — two or three— 
His store of lore The Township Library 
Supplied him weekly: Al! the books with "or"s— 
Sub-titled— lured him— after "Indian Wars," 
And "Life of Daniel Boone,"— not to include 
Some few books spiced with humor, — "Robin Hood" 
And rare "Don Quixote."— And one time he took 
" Dadd's Cattle Doctor." . . . How he hugged the book 
And hurried homeward, with internal glee 
And humorous spasms of expectancy ! — 
All this confession — as he promptly made 
It, the day later, writhing in the shade 
Of the old apple-tree with Johnty and 
Bud, Noey Bixler, and The Hired Hand — 
Was quite as funny as the book was not. . . . 
O Wonderland of wayward Childhood ! what 
An easy, breezy realm of summer calm 
And dreamy gleam and gloom and bloom and balm 

54 



WHILE THE HEART BEATS YOUNG 

Thou art! — The Lotus-Land the poet sung, 

It is the Child-World while the heart beats young. . . . 

While the heart beats young !— O the splendor of the Spring, 

With all her dewy jewels on, is not so fair a thing! 

The fairest, rarest morning of the blossom-time of May 

Is not so sweet a season as the season of to-day 

While Youth's diviner climate folds and holds us, close caressed, 

As we feel our mothers with us by the touch of face and breast; — 

Our bare feet in the meadows, and our fancies up among 

The airy clouds of morning — while (he heart beats young. 

While the heart beats young and our pulses leap and dance, 
With every day a holiday and life a glad romance, — 
We hear the birds with wonder, and with wonder watch their flight- 
Standing still the more enchanted, both of hearing and of sight, 
When they have vanished wholly, — for, in fancy, wing-to-wing 
We fly to Heaven with them; and, returning, still we sing 
The praises of this lower Heaven with tireless voice and tongue, 
Even as the Master sanctions — while the heart beats young. 

While the heart beats young! — While the heart beats young! 
O green and gold old Earth of ours, with azure overhung 
And looped with rainbows ! — grant us yet this grassy lap of thine — 
We would be still thy children, through the shower and the shine ! 

55 



NOEV BIXLER 

So pray we, lisping, whispering, in childish love and trust, 
With our beseeching hands and faces lifted from the dust 
By fervor of the poem, all unwritten and unsung, 
Thou givest us in answer, while the heart beats young. 

ANOTHER hero of those youthful years 
Returns, as Noey Bixler's name appears. 
And Noey— if in any special way- 
Was notably good-natured.— Work or play 
He entered into with selfsame delight— 
A wholesome interest that made him quite 
As many friends among the old as young,— 
So everywhere were Noey's praises sung. 

And he was awkward, fat and overgrown, 

With a round full-moon face, that fairly shone 

As though to meet the simile's demand. 

And, cumbrous though he seemed, both eye and hand 



56 



NOET AND HIS GIFTS 

Were dowered with the discernment and deft skill 
Of the true artisan : He shaped at will, 
In his old father's shop, on rainy days, 
Little toy-wagons, and curved-runner sleighs; 
The trimmest bows and arrows — fashioned, too, 
Of "seasoned timber," such as Noey knew 
How to select, prepare, and then complete, 
And call his little friends in from the street. 
" The very best bow," Noey used to say, 
" Haint made o' ash ner hick'ry thataway! — 
But you git mulberry — the beart'n' -tree, 
Now mind ye! and you fetch the piece to me, 
And lem me git it seasoned; then, i gum! 
I'll make a bow 'at you kin brag on some! 
Er — ef you can't git mulberry, — you bring 
Me a' old locus 1 hitch-post, and i jing! 
I'll make a bow o' that 'at common bows 
Won't dast to pick on ner turn up their nose!" 

57 



A CHILD-WORLD 

And Noey knew the woods, and all the trees, 
And thickets, plants and myriad mysteries 
Of swamp and bottom-land. And he knew where 
The ground-hog hid, and why located there. — 
He knew all animals that burrowed, swam, 
Or lived in tree-tops: And, by race and dam, 
He knew the choicest, safest deeps wherein 
Fish-traps might flourish nor provoke the sin 
Of theft in some chance peeking, prying sneak, 
Or town-boy, prowling up and down the creek. 
All four-pawed creatures tamable — he knew 
Their outer and their inner natures too; 
While they, in turn, were drawn to him as by 
Some subtle recognition of a tie 
Of love, as true as truth from end to end, 
Between themselves and this strange human friend. 
The same with birds — he knew them every one, 
And he could "name them, too, without a gun." 

58 



THEIR LOVES' WHEREFORE 

No wonder Johnty loved him, even to 
The verge of worship. — Noey led him through 
The art of trapping redbirds — yes, and taught 
Him how to keep them when he had them caught- 
What food they needed, and just where to swing 
The cage, if he expected them to sing. 

And Bud loved Noey, for the little pair 
Of stilts he made him ; or the stout old hair 
Trunk Noey put on wheels, and laid a track 
Of scantling-railroad for it in the back 
Part of the barn-lot; or the cross-bow, made 
Just like a gun, which deadly weapon laid 
Against his shoulder as he aimed, and — "Sping!" 
He'd hear the rusty old nail zoon and sing — 
And {ip! your Mr. Bluejay's wing would drop 
A farewell-feather from the old tree-top ! 



59 



A CHILD-V/ORLD 

And Maymic loved him, for the very small 
But perfect carriage for her favorite doll — 
A lady^s carriage— not a baby-cab, — 
But oilcloth top, and two seats, lined with drab 
And trimmed with white lace-paper from a case 
Of shaving-soap his uncle bought some place 
At auction once. 

And Alex loved him yet 
The best, when Noey brought him, for a pet, 
A little flying-squirrel, with great eyes — 
Big as a child's: And, childlike otherwise, 
It was at first a timid, tremulous, coy, 
Retiring little thing that dodged the boy 
And tried to keep in Noey's pocket;— till, 
In time, responsive to his patient will, 
It became wholly docile, and content 
With its new master, as he came and went,— 



60 



TUNELESS WHISTLING 

The squirrel clinging flatly to his breast, 
Or sometimes scampering its craziest 
Around his body spirally, and then 
Down to his very heels and up again. 

And Little Li{{ie loved him, as a bee 

Loves a great ripe red apple — utterly. 

For Noey's ruddy morning-face she drew 

The window-blind, and tapped the window, too ; 

Afar she hailed his coming, as she heard 

His tuneless whistling— sweet as any bird 

It seemed to her, the one lame bar or so 

Of old "Wait for the Wagon "—hoarse and low 

The sound was, — so that, all about the place, 

Folks joked and said that Noey "whistled bass"- 

The light remark originally made 

By Cousin Rufus, who knew notes, and played 



61 



A CHILD-WORLD 

The flute with nimble skill, and taste as well, 
And, critical as he was musical, 
Regarded Noey's constant whistling thus 
" Phenominally unmelodious." 
Likewise when Uncle Mart, who shared the love 
Of jest with Cousin Rufus hand-in-glove, 
Said " Noey couldn't whistle 'Bonny Doon'' 
Even! and, hid bet, couldn't carry a tune 
If it had handles to it!" 

— But forgive 
The deviations here so fugitive, 
And turn again to Little Lizzie, whose 
High estimate of Noey we shall choose 
Above all others. — And to her he was 
Particularly lovable because 
He laid the woodland's harvest at her feet. — 
He brought her wild strawberries, honey-sweet 



63 



WINTER RESOURCES 

And dewy-cool, in mats of greenest moss 
And leaves, all woven over and across 
With tender, biting " tongue-grass," and "sheep-sour," 
And twin-leaved beach-mast, prankt with bud and tlower 
Of every gypsy-blossom of the wild, 
Dark, tangled forest, dear to any child. — 
All these in season. Nor could barren, drear, 
White and stark-featured Winter interfere 
With Noey's rare resources: Still the same 
He blithely whistled through the snow and came 
Beneath the window with a Fairy sled ; 
And Little Lizzie, bundled heels-and-head, 
He took on such excursions of delight 
As even "Old Santy" with his reindeer might 
Have envied her! And, later, when the snow 
Was softening toward Springtime and the glow 
Of steady sunshine smote upon it,— then 
Came the magician Noey yet again — 

63 



A CHILD-WORLD 

While all the children were away a day 
Or two at Grandma's !— and behold when they 
Got home once more;— there, towering taller than 
The doorway — stood a mighty, old Snow-Man ! 

A thing of peerless art— a masterpiece 

Doubtless unmatched by even classic Greece 

In heyday of Praxiteles. — Alone 

It loomed in lordly grandeur all its own. 

And steadfast, too, for weeks and weeks it stood, 

The admiration of the neighborhood 

As well as of the children Noey sought 

Only to honor in the work he wrought. 

The traveler paid it tribute, as he passed 

Along the highway— paused and, turning, cast 

A lingering, last look— as though to take 

A vivid print of it, for memory's sake, 



64 



THE APPRENTICE-POET 

To lighten all the empty, aching miles 

Beyond with brighter fancies, hopes and smiles. 

The cynic put aside his biting wit 

And tacitly declared in praise of it; 

And even the apprentice-poet of the town 

Rose to impassioned heights, and then sat down 

And penned a panegyric scroll of rhyme 

That made the Snow-Man famous for all time. 

And though, as now, the ever warmer sun 
Of summer had so melted and undone 
The perishable figure that — alas ! — 
Not even in dwindled white against the grass 
Was left its latest and minutest ghost, 
The children yet — materially, almost — 
Beheld it— circled 'round it hand-in-hand — 
(Or rather 'round the place it used to stand) — 



65 



"A NOTED TRAVELER" 

With " Ring-a-round-a-rosy ! Bottle full 

O' posey! " and, with shriek and laugh, would pul 

From seeming contact with it— just as when 

It was the real-est of old Snow-Men. 

EVEN in such a scene of senseless play 

The children were surprised one summer-day 

By a strange man who called across the fence, 

Inquiring for their father's residence; 

And, being answered that this was the place, 

Opened the gate, and with a radiant face, 

Came in and sat down with them in the shade 

And waited— till the absent father made 

His noon appearance, with a warmth and zest 

That told he had no ordinary guest 

In this man whose low-spoken name he knew 

At once, demurring as the stranger drew 



66 



PERSONA L CHA RA C TBR/S TICS 

A stuffy notebook out and turned and set 
A big fat finger on a page and let 
The writing thereon testify instead 
Of further speech. And as the father read 
All silently, the curious children took 
Exacting inventory both of book 
And man : — He wore a long-napped white fur hat 
Pulled firmly on his head, and under that 
Rather long silvery hair, or iron-gray— 
For he was not an old man, — anyway, 
Not beyond sixty. And he wore a pair 
Of square-framed spectacles— or rather there 
Were two more than a pair, — the extra two 
Flared at the corners, at the eyes' side-view, 
In as redundant vision as the eyes 
Of grasshoppers or bees or dragonflies. 
Later the children heard the father say 
He was "A Noted Traveler," and would stay 

67 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Some days with them — In which time host and guest 

Discussed, alone, in deepest interest, 

Some vague, mysterious matter that defied 

The wistful children, loitering outside 

The spare-room door. There Bud acquired a quite 

New list of big words — such as " Disunite, " 

And " Shibboleth," and "Aristocracy," 

And "Juggernaut," and "Squatter Sovereignty," 

And "Anti-slavery," " Emancipate," 

"Irrepressible conflict," and "The Great 

Battle of Armageddon " — obviously 

A pamphlet brought from Washington, D. C, 

And spread among such friends as might occur 

Of like views with "The Noted Traveler." 



68 



w 



A PROSPECTIVE VISIT 

HILE any day was notable and dear 
That gave the children Noey, history here 
Records his advent emphasized indeed 
With sharp italics, as he came to feed 
The stock one special morning, fair and bright, 
When Johnty and Bud met him, with delight 
Unusual even as their extra dress- 
Garbed as for holiday, with much excess 
Of proud self-consciousness and vain conceit 
In their new finery.— Far up the street 
They called to Noey, as he came, that they, 
As promised, both were going back that day 
To his house with him! 

And by time that each 
Had one of Noey's hands — ceasing their speech 
And coyly anxious, in their new attire, 
To wake the comment of their mute desire, — 

69 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Noey seemed rendered voiceless. Quite a while 
They watched him furtively. — He seemed to smile 
As though he would conceal it; and they saw 
Him look away, and his lips purse and draw 
In curious, twitching spasms, as though he might 
Be whispering,— while in his eye the white 
Predominated strangely. — Then the spell 
Gave way, and his pent speech burst audible: 
" They wuz two stylish little boys, 

and they wuz mighty bold ones, 
Had two new pairs o' britches made 

out o 5 their daddy's old ones!" 
And at the inspirational outbreak, 
Both joker and his victims seemed to take 
An equal share of laughter, — and all through 
Their morning visit kept recurring to 
The funny words and jingle of the rhyme 
That just kept getting funnier all the time. 

70 



AT NOEY'S HOUSE 

AT NOEY'S house— when they arrived with him— 
How snug seemed everything, and neat and trim : 
The little picket-fence, and little gate- 
It's little pulley, and its little weight,— 
All glib as clock-work, as it clicked behind 
Them, on the little red brick pathway, lined 
With little paint-keg-vases and teapots 
Of wee moss-blossoms and forgetmenots : 
And in the windows, either side the door, 
Were ranged as many little boxes more 
Of like old-fashioned larkspurs, pinks and moss 
And fern and phlox ; while up and down across 
Them rioted the morning-glory-vines 
On taut-set cotton-strings, whose snowy lines 

7i 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Whipt in and out and under the bright green 
Like basting-threads; and, here and there between, 
A showy, shiny hollyhock would flare 
Its pink among the white and purple there. — 
And still behind the vines, the children saw 
A strange, bleached, wistful face that seemed to draw 
A vague, indefinite sympathy. A face 
It was of some newcomer to the place. — 
In explanation, Noey, briefly, said 
That it was "Jason," as he turned and led 
The little fellows 'round the house to show 
Them his menagerie of pets. And so 
For quite a time the face of the strange guest 
Was partially forgotten, as they pressed 
About the squirrel-cage and rousted both 
The lazy inmates out, though wholly loath 
To whirl the wheel for them. — And then with awe 
They walked 'round Noey's big pet owl, and saw 

72 



THE OWL, THE TERRAPIN AND BOLIVUR 

Him film his great, clear, liquid eyes and stare 
And turn and turn and turn his head 'round there 
The same way they kept circling— as though he 
Could turn it one way thus eternally. 

Behind the kitchen, then, with special pride 

Noey stirred up a terrapin inside 

The rain-barrel where he lived, with three or four 

Little mud-turtles of a size not more 

In neat circumference than the tiny toy 

Dumb-watches worn by every little boy. 

Then, back of the old shop, beneath the tree 
Of "rusty-coats," as Noey called them, he 
Next took the boys, to show his favorite new 
Pet 'coon — pulled rather coyly into view 
Up through a square hole in the bottom of 
An old inverted tub he bent above, 

73 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Yanking a little chain, with "Hey! you, sir! 

Here's company come to see you, Bolivur!" 

Explanatory, he went on to say, 

"1 named him 'Bolivur' jes thisaway, — 

He looks so round and ovalish and fat, 

' Peared like no other name 'ud fit but that." 

Here Noey's father called and sent him on 
Some errand. "Wait," he said — "I won't be gone 
A half a' hour. — Take Bud, and go on in 
Where Jason is, tel I git back agin." 

Whoever Jason was, they found him there 
Still at the front-room window.— By his chair 
Leaned a new pair of crutches ; and from one 
Knee down, a leg was bandaged. — " Jason done 
That-air with one o' these-'ere tools we call 
A ' shin-hoe ' — but a foot-ad^ mostly all 

74 



JASON 

Hardware-sto re-keepers calls 'em." — (Noey made 
This explanation later.) 

Jason paid 
But little notice to the boys as they 
Came in the room : — An idle volume lay 
Upon his lap— the only book in sight — 
And Johnty read the title, — " Light, More Light, 
There's Danger in the Dark," — though first and best- 
In fact, the whole of Jason's interest 
Seemed centered on a little dog — one pet 
Of Noey's all uncelebrated yet — 
Though Jason, certainly, avowed his worth, 
And niched him over all the pets on earth — 
As the observant Johnty would relate 
The /^sow-episode, and imitate 
The all-enthusiastic speech and air 
Of Noey's kinsman and his tribute there : — 



75 



THA T LITTLE DOG 



tt 



THAT little dog 'ud scratch at that door 
And go on a-whinin' two hours before 
He'd ever let up! There!— Jane: Let him in. — 
(Hah, there, you little rat!) Look at him grin! 

Come down off o' that! — 

W'y, look at him ! {Drat 
You! you-rascal-you!) — bring me that hat! 
Look out!— He'll snap you!— He wouldn't let 
You take it away from him, now you kin bet! 
That little rascal's jist natchurly mean. — 
I tell you, I never (Git out!!) never seen 
A spunkier little rip ! {Scratch to git in, 
And now yer a-scratchin' to git out agin ! 
Jane: Let him out!) Now, watch him from here 
Out through the winder! — You notice one ear 
Kindo' ins\de-out, like he holds it?— Well, 
He's got a tick in it—/ kin tell ! 



76 



CANINE SAGACITT 

Yes, and he's cunnin' — 

Jist watch him a-runnin', 
Sideliti — see ! — like he ain't 'plum'd true'' 
And legs don't ' track ' as they'd ort to do ! — 
Plowin' his nose through the weeds — I jing ! 
Ain't he jist cuter'n anything ! 

"W'y, that little dog's got grown-people's sense!- 
See how he gits out under the fence? — 
And watch him a-whettin' his hind-legs 'fore 
His dead square run of a miled er more — 
'Cause Noey's a-comin', and Trip alius knows 
When Noey's a-comin' — and off he goes ! — 
Putts out to meet him and — There they come now ! 
Well-sir! it's raially singalar how 

That dog kin tell, — 

But he knows as well 



11 



A CHILD-WORLD 

When Noey's a-comin' home .'—Reckon his smell 
'Ud carry two miled? — You needn't to smile — 
He runs to meet him, ever'-once-n-a-while, 
Two miled and over — when he's slipped away 
And left him at home here, as he's done to-day — 
'Thout ever knowin' where Noey wuz goin' — 
But that little dog alius hits the right way! 
Hear him a-whinin' and scratchin' agin? — 
{Little tormentin' fice !) Jane: Let him in. 

" — You say he ain't there? — 
Well now, I declare! — 
Lem me limp out and look ! . . . 1 wunder where- 
Heuh, Trip ! — Heuh, Trip ! — Heuh, Trip ! . . . There- 
There he is! — Little sneak! — What-a'-you-'bout? — 
There he is — quiled up as meek as a mouse, 
His tail turnt up like a teakittle-spout, 
A-sunnin' hisse'f at the side o' the house! 

78 



"JANE: LET II I M IN n 

Next time you scratch, sir, you'll haf to git in, 

My fine little feller, the best way you kin ! 

— Noey he learns him sich capers ! — And they — 

Both of 'em's ornrier every day! — 

Both tantalizin' and meaner'n sin — 

Alius a — (Listen there!') — Jane : Let him in. 

" — O! yer so innocent! hangin' yer head! — 
(Drat ye! you'd better git under the bed!) 
— Listen at that ! — 
He's tackled the cat! — 
Hah, there ! you little rip ! come out o' that ! — 
Git yer blame little eyes scratched out 
'Fore you know what yer talkin' about! — 
Here! come away from there! — (Let him alone — 
He'll snay you, I tell ye, as quick as a bone!) 
Hi, Trip ! — Hey, here ! — What-a'-you-'bout ! — 
Oo! ouch! 'LI I'll be blamed {—Blast ye ! GlT OUT! 

'/9 



A CHILD-WORLD 

... O, it ain't nothin' — jist scratched me, you see. 
Hadn't no idy he'd try to bite me! 
Plague take him! — Bet he'll not try that agin! — 
Hear him yelp. — {Pore feller !) Jane: Let him in." 



80 



n 



THE LOEHRS AND THE HAMMONDS 

TJEY, Bud! O Bud!" rang out a gleeful call — 
"The Loehrs is come to your house!" And a small 
But very much elated little chap, 
In snowy linen-suit and tasseled cap, 
Leaped from the back-fence just across the street 
From Bixlers', and came galloping to meet 
His equally delighted little pair 
Of playmates, hurrying out to join him there— 
" The Loehrs is come! — The Loehrs is come !" his glee 
Augmented to a pitch of ecstasy 
Communicated wildly, till the cry 
" The Loehrs is come!" in chorus quavered high 
And thrilling as some pa?an of challenge or 
Soul-stirring chant of armied conqueror. 
6 81 



A CHILD-WORLD 

And who this avant courier of "the Loehrs"? — 

This happiest of all boys out-o'-doors — 

Who but Will Pierson, with his heart's excess 

Of summer-warmth and light and breeziness ! 

" From our front winder I 'uz first to see 

'Em all a-drivin' into town ! " bragged he — 

" An' seen 'em turnin' up the alley where 

Your folks lives at. An' John an' Jake wuz there 

Both in the wagon; — yes, an' Willy, too; 

An' Mary— Yes, an' Edith — with bran-new 

An' purtiest-trimmed hats 'at ever wuz !— 

An' Susan, an' Janey. — An' the Hammonds-uz 

In their fine buggy 'at they're ridin' roun' 

So much, all over an' aroun' the town 

An' mr'wheres, — them «'/r-people who's 

A-visutin' at Loehrs-uz ! " 

Glorious news!— 



82 



THE GIRL FRIEND 

Even more glorious when verified 
In the boys' welcoming eyes of love and pride, 
As one by one they greeted their old friends 
And neighbors. — Nor until their earth-life ends 
Will that bright memory become less bright 
Or dimmed indeed. 

. . . Again, at candle-light, 
The faces all are gathered. And how glad 
The Mother's features, knowing that she had 
Her dear, sweet Mary Loehr back again. — 
She always was so proud of her; and then 
The dear girl, in return, was happy, too, 
And with a heart as loving, kind and true 
As that maturer one which seemed to blend 
As one the love of mother and of friend. 
From time to time, as hand-in-hand they sat, 
The fair girl whispered something low, whereat 



83 



A CHILD-WORLD 

A tender, wistful look would gather in 
The mother-eyes ; and then there would begin 
A sudden cheerier talk, directed to 
The stranger guests— the man and woman who, 
It was explained, were coming now to make 
Their temporary home in town for sake 
Of the wife's somewhat failing health. Yes, they 
Were city-people, seeking rest this way, 
The man said, answering a query made 
By some well meaning neighbor — with a shade 
Of apprehension in the answer .... No, — 
They had no children. As he answered so, 
The man's arm went about his wife, and she 
Leant toward him, with her eyes lit prayerfully: 
Then she arose — he following — and bent 
Above the little sleeping innocent 
Within the cradle at the mother's side — 
He patting her, all silent, as she cried.— 

84 



THE SILENT POEM 

Though, haply, in the silence that ensued, 
His musings made melodious interlude. 

In the warm, health -giving weather 
My poor pale wife and I 

Drive up and down the little town 
And the pleasant roads thereby : 

Out in the wholesome country 
We wind, from the main highway, 

in through the wood's green solitudes- 
Fair as the Lord's own Day. 

We have lived so long together, 

And joyed and mourned as one, 
That each with each, with a iook for speech, 

Or a touch, may talk as none 
Out Love's elect may comprehend — 

Why, the touch of her hand on mine 
Speaks volume-wise, and the smile of her eyes, 

To me, is a song divine. 

There are many places that lure us :— 
"The Old Wood Bridge" just west 

Of town we know — and the creek below, 
And the banks the boys love best : 

85 



A CHILD-WORLD 



And "Beech Grove," too, on the hill-top; 

And "The Haunted House" beyond, 
With its roof half off, and its old pump-trough 

Adrift in the roadside pond. 

We find our way to "The Marshes" — 

At least where they used to be ; 
And "The Old Camp Grounds"; and "The Indian Mounds," 

And the trunk of "The Council Tree:" 
We have crunched and splashed through "Flint-bed Ford"; 

And at "Old Big Bee-gum Spring" 
We have stayed the cup, half lifted up, 

Hearing the redbird sing. 

And then, there is " Wesley Chapel," 

With its little graveyard, lone 
At the crossroads there, though the sun sets fair 

On wild-rose, mound and stone • . . 
A wee bed under the willows — 

My wife's hand on my own — 
And our horse stops, too . . . And we hear the coo 

Of a dove in undertone. 



86 



A SUMMONS FROM FLORETTT 

The dusk, the dew, and the silence 1 

"Old Charley" turns his head 
Homeward then by the pike again, 

Though never a word is said — 
One more stop, and a lingering one — 

After the fields and farms, — 
At the old Toll Gate, with the woman await 

With a little girl in her arms. 

The siience sank— Floretty came to call 
The children in the kitchen, where they all 
Went helter-skeltering with shout and din 
Enough to drown most sanguine silence in, — 
For well indeed they knew that summons meant 
Taffy and popcorn — so with cheers they went. 



87 



THE HIRED MAN AND FLORETTY 

'"pHE Hired Man's supper, which he sat before, 
In near reach of the wood-box, the stove-door 
And one leaf of the kitchen-table, was 
Somewhat belated, and in lifted pause 
His dextrous knife was balancing a bit 
Of fried mush near the port awaiting it. 

At the glad children's advent— gladder still 
To find him there— " Jest tickled fit to kill 
To see ye all!" he said, with mictions cheer.— 
"I'm tryin'-like to he'p Floretty here 
To git things cleared away and give ye room 
Accordin' to yer stren'th. But I p'sume 
It's a pore boarder, as the poet says, 
That quarrels with his victuals, so I guess 

88 



THE HIRED MAN 

I'll take another wedge o' that-air cake, 
Florett', that you're &-learnui > how to bake." 
He winked and feigned to swallow painfully. — 

"Jest 'fore ye all come in, Floretty she 
Was boastin' 'bout her biscuits— and they air 
As good — sometimes — as you'll find anywhere. — 
But, women gits to braggin' on their bread, 
I'm s'picious 'bout their pie — as Danty said." 
This raillery Floretty strangely seemed 
To take as compliment, and fairly beamed 
With pleasure at it all. 

— "Speakin' o' bread — 
When she come here to live," The Hired Man said, 
" Never ben out o' Freeport 'fore she come 
Up here, — of course she needed ^sperience some. — 
So, one day, when yer Ma was goin' to set 
The risin' fer some bread, she sent Florett' 

89 



A CHILD-WORLD 

To borry leaven, 'crost at Ryans' — So, 
She went and asked fer twelve. — She didn't know, 
But thought, whatever 'twuz, that she could keep 
One fer kerse'f, she said. O she vvuz deep!" 

Some little evidence of favor hailed 

The Hired Man's humor; but it wholly failed 

To touch the serious Susan Loehr, whose air 

And thought rebuked them all to listening there 

To her brief history of the r/^-man 

And his pale wife— " A sweeter woman than 

She ever saw ! " — So Susan testified, — 

And so attested all the Loehrs beside. — 

So entertaining was the history, that 

The Hired Man, in the corner where he sat 

In quiet sequestration, shelling corn, 

Ceased wholly, listening, with a face forlorn 



90 



THE HAMMONDS 

As Sorrow's own, while Susan, John and Jake 

Told of these strangers who had come to make 

Some weeks' stay in the town, in hopes to gain 

Once more the health the wife had sought in vain 

Their doctor, in the city, used to know 

The Loehrs — Dan and Rachel— years ago, — 

And so had sent a letter and request 

For them to take a kindly interest 

In favoring the couple all they could — 

To find some home-place for them, if they would, 

Among their friends in town. He ended by 

A dozen further lines, explaining why 

His patient must have change of scene and air — 

New faces, and the simple friendships there 

With them, which might, in time, make her forget 

A grief that kept her ever brooding yet 

And wholly melancholy and depressed, — 

Nor yet could she find sleep by night nor rest 



A CHILD-WORLD 

By day, for thinking— thinking— thinking still 
Upon a grief beyond the doctor's skill, — 
The death of her one little girl. 

"Pore thing!" 
Floretty sighed, and with the turkey-wing 
Brushed off the stove-hearth softly, and peered in 
The kettle of molasses, with her thin 
Voice wandering into song unconsciously — 
In purest, if most witless, sympathy. — 

"'Then sleep no more: 

Around thy heart 
Some ten-der dream may i-dlee play, 

But mid-night song, 

With mad-jick art, 
Will chase that dree muh-way!'" 

"That-air besetment of Floretty's," said 
The Hired Man, — "singir? — she inhairited, — 
Her father wuz addicted — same as her — 
To singin' — yes, and played the dulcimer! 

92 



THE HIRED MAN'S PHILOSOPHY 

But — gittin' back, — I s'pose yer talkin' 'bout 
Them Hammondses. Well, Hammond he gits out 
Patients on things — inventions-like, I'm told— 
And's got more money'n a house could hold! 
And yit he can't git up no pattent-right 
To do away with dyin\ — And he might 
Be worth a million, but he couldn't find 
Nobody sellin' health of any kind! . . . 
But they's no thing onhandier fer me 
To use than other people's misery. — 
Floretty, hand me that-air skillet there 
And lem me git 'er het up, so's them-air 
Childern kin have their popcorn." 

It was good 
To hear him now, and so the children stood 
Closer about him, waiting. 

"Things to eat," 
The Hired Man went on, "'s mighty hard to beat! 

93 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Now, when / wuz a boy, we was so pore, 

My parunts couldn't 'ford popcorn no more 

To pamper me with ; — so, I hat to go 

Without popcorn — sometimes a year er so ! — 

And suffered saints ! how hungry I would git 

Fer jest one other chance— like this — at it! 

Many and many a time I've dreamp\ at night, 

About popcorn, — all busted open white, 

And hot, you know — and jest enough o' salt 

And butter on it fer to find no fault — 

Oomh !— Well ! as I was goin' on to say, — 

After a-dreamin' of it thataway, 

Then havin' to wake up and find it's all 

A dream, and hain't got no popcorn at-tall, 

Ner haint had none — I'd think, ' Well, whereas the use! 1 

And jest lay back and sob the plaster'n' loose! 

And 1 have prayed, whatever happened, it 

'Ud eether be popcorn er death ! . . . . And yit 

94 



OUT IN THE NIGHT-AIR 

I've noticed — more'n likely so have you — 

That things don't happen when you want 'em to." 

And thus he ran on artlessly, with speech 

And work in equal exercise, till each 

Tureen and bowl brimmed white. And then he greased 

The saucers ready for the wax, and seized 

The fragrant-steaming kettle, at a sign 

Made by Floretty; and, each child in line, 

He led out to the pump — where, in the dim 

New coolness of the night, quite near to him 

He felt Floretty's presence, fresh and sweet 

As ... . dewy night-air after kitchen-heat. 

There, still, with loud delight of laugh and jest, 
They plied their subtle alchemy with zest — 
Till, sudden, high above their tumult, welled 
Out of the sitting-room a song which held 

95 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Them stilled in some strange rapture, listening 

To the sweet blur of voices chorusing : — 

• •••■«•••* 

" ' When twilight approaches the season 
That ever is sacred to song, 
Does some one repeat my name over, 

And sigh that I tarry so long? 
And is there a chord in the music 

That's missed when my voice is away? — 
And a chord in each heart that awakens 
Regret at my wearisome stay-ay — 
Regret at my wearisome stay.' " 

All to himself, The Hired Man thought— "Of course 

They'll sing Floretty homesick ! " 

. . . O strange source 

Of ecstasy ! O mystery of Song ! — 

To hear the dear old utterance flow along : — 

" ' Do they set me a chair near the table 

When evening's home-pleasures are nigh? — 
When the candies are lit in the parlor, 
And the stars in the calm azure sky.' " . . . , 

9 6 



THE POWER OF MUSIC 

Just then the moonlight sliced the porch slantwise, 

And flashed in misty spangles in the eyes 

Floretty clenched— while through the dark — " I jing ! " 

A voice asked, "Where's that song 'jyoud learn to sing 

Ef 1 sent you the ballat?' — which I done 

Last I was home at Freeport. — S'pose you run 

And git it— and we'll all go in to where 

They'll know the notes and sing it fer ye there." 

And up the darkness of the old stairway 

Floretty fled, without a word to say — 

Save to herself some whisper muffled by 

Her apron, as she wiped her lashes dry. 

Returning, with a letter, which she laid 
Upon the kitchen-table while she made 
A hasty crock of "float," — poured thence into 
A deep glass dish of iridescent hue 



97 



A CHILD-WORLD 

And glint and sparkle, with an overflow 
Of froth to crown it, foaming white as snow 
And then — poundcake, and jelly-cake as rare, 
For its delicious complement, — with air 
Of Hebe mortalized, she led her van 
Of votaries, rounded by The Hired Man. 



98 



w 



THE EVENING COMPANY 

ITHIN the sitting-room, the company 

Had been increased in number. Two or three 
Young couples had been added : Emma King, 
Ella and Mary Mathers — all could sing 
Like veritable angels — Lydia Martin, too, 
And Nelly Millikan.— What songs they knew !— 

" 'Ever of Thee — wherever I may be. 
Fondly I'm drea-m-ing ever of thee ! ' " 

And with their gracious voices blend the grace 
Of Warsaw Barnett's tenor; and the bass 
Unfathomed of Wick Chapman— Fancy still 
Can feel, as well as hear it, thrill on thrill, 
Vibrating plainly down the backs of chairs 
.And through the wall and up the old hall-stairs,- 

99 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Indeed young Chapman's voice especially 
Attracted Mr. Hammond — For, said he, 
Waiving the most Elysian sweetness of 
The ladies' voices — altitudes above 
The man's for sweetness; — but — as contrast, would 
Not Mr. Chapman be so very good 
As, just now, to oblige all with — in fact, 
Some sort of jolly song, — to counteract 
In part, at least, the sad, pathetic trend 
Of music generally. Which wish our friend 
' 'The Noted Traveler" made second to 
With heartiness— and so each, in review, 
Joined in — until the radiant basso cleared 
His wholly unobstructed throat and peered 
Intently at the ceiling — voice and eye 
As opposite indeed as earth and sky.— 
Thus he uplifted his vast bass and let 
It roam at large the memories booming yet: 

loo 



WICK CHAPMAN'S BASS 

" ' Old Simon the Cellarer keeps a rare store 
Of Malmsey and Malvoi-sie, 
Of Cyprus, and who can say how many more? — 
But a chary old soul is he-e-ee — 
A chary old so-u-1 is he ! 
Of hock and Canary he never doth fail ; 
And all the year 'round, there is brewing of ale ; — 
Yet he never aiieth, he quaintly doth say, 
While he keeps to his sober six flagons a day.' " 

. . . And then the chorus— the men's voices all 
Warred in it — like a German Carnival. — 
Even Mrs. Hammond smiled, as in her youth. 
Hearing her husband — And in veriest truth 
"The Noted Traveler's" ever-present hat 
Seemed just relaxed a little, after that, 
As at conclusion of the Bacchic song 
He stirred his "float" vehemently and long. 

Then Cousin Rufus with his flute, and art 

Blown blithely through it from both soul and heart- 

101 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Inspired to heights of mastery by the glad, 

Enthusiastic audience he had 

In the young ladies of a town that knew 

No other flutist, — nay, nor wanted to, 

Since they had heard his " Polly Hopkin's Waltz." 

Or " Ricketf s Hornpipe," with its faultless faults, 

As rendered solely, he explained, " by ear," 

Having but heard it once, Commencement Year, 

At "Old Ann Arbor." 

Little Maymie now 
Seemed "friends" with Mr. Hammond — anyhow, 
Was lifted to his lap— where settled, she — 
Enthroned thus, in her dainty majesty, 
Gained universal audience — although 
Addressing him alone: — "I'm come to show 
You my new Red-blue pencil; and she says" — 
(Pointing to Mrs. Hammond)— ".that she guess' 
You'll make a picture fer me." 

102 



AN IMPROMPTU ARTIST 

"And what kind 

Of picture?" Mr. Hammond asked, inclined 

To serve the child as bidden, folding square 

The piece of paper she had brought him there. — 

"I don't know," Maymie said — "only ist make 

A little dirl, like me!" 

He paused to take 

A sharp view of the child, and then he drew — 

Awhile with red, and then awhile with blue — 

The outline of a little girl that stood 

In converse with a wolf in a great wood ; 

And she had on a hood and cloak of red — 

As Maymie watched — "Red Riding Hood!" she said. 

"And who's 'Red Riding Hood'?" 

"W'y, don't you know?" 
Asked little Maymie — 

But the man looked so 

All uninformed, that little Maymie could 

But tell him all about Red Riding Hood. 

103 



MAYMIE'S STORY OF RED RIDING HOOD 



W 



'Y, one time wuz a little-weenty dlrl, 
An' she wuz named Red Riding Hood, 'cause her- 
Her Ma she maked a little red cloak fer her 
'At turnt up over her head — An' it 'uz all 
1st one piece o' red cardinul 'at 's like 
The drate-long stockin's the store-keepers has. — 
O! it 'uz purtiest cloak in all the world 
An' all this town er anywheres they is ! 
An' so, one day, her Ma she put it on 
Red Riding Hood, she did— one day, she did— 
An' it 'uz Sunday — 'cause the little cloak 
It 'uz too nice to wear ist ever"* day 
An' all the time!— An' so her Ma, she put 
It on Red Riding Hood— an' telled her not 

104 



MATMIE'S ST OR 2' OF RED RIDING HOOD 

To dit no dirt on it ner dit it mussed 

Ner nothin' ! An' — an' — nen her Ma she dot 

Her little basket out, 'at Old Kriss bringed 

Her wunst — one time, he did. And nen she fill' 

It full o' whole lots an' 'bundance o' good things t' eat 

(Alius my Dran'ma she says ' 'bundance,' too.) 

An' so her Ma fill' little Red Riding Hood's 

Nice basket all ist full o' dood things t' eat, 

An' tell her take 'em to her old Dran'ma — 

An' not to spill 'em, neever — 'cause ef she 

'Ud stump her toe an 5 spill 'em, her Dran'ma 

She'll haf to punish her ! 

An' nen — An' so 
Little Red Riding Hood she p'omised she 
'Ud be all careful nen an' cross' her heart 
'At she wont run an' spill 'em all fer six — 
Five — ten — two-hundred-bushel-dollars-gold ! 
An' nen she kiss her Ma doo'-bye an' went 

105 



A CHILD-WORLD 

A-skippin' off — away fur off f rough the 

Big woods, where her Dran'ma she live at. — No! — 

She didn't do a-skippin', like I said : — 

She ist went walkin' — careful-like an* slow — 

1st like a littie lady — walkin' 'long 

As all polite an' nice — an' slow — an' straight — 

An' turn her toes — ist like she's marchin' in 

The Sund'y-School k-session ! 

An' — an' — so 
She 'uz a-doin' along— an' doin' along — 
On frough the drate big woods— 'cause her Dran'ma 
She live 'way, 'way fur off frough the big woods 
From her Ma's house. So when Red Riding Hood 
She dit to do there, alius have most fun — 
When she do frough the drate big woods, you know.- 
'Cause she ain't feared a bit o' anything ! 
An' so she sees the little hoppty-birds 
'At's in the trees, an' flyin' all around, 

ic6 



MATMIE'S STORT OF RED RIDING HOOD 

An' singin' dlad as ef their parunts said 

They'll take 'em to the magic-lantern show! 

An' she 'ud pull the purty flowers an' things 

A-growin' round the stumps — An' she 'ud ketch 

The purty butterflies, an' drasshoppers, 

An' stick pins trough 'em — No! — I ist said that! — 

'Cause she's too dood an' kind an' 'bedient 

To hurt things thataway. — She'd ketch 'em, though, 

An' ist play wiv 'em ist a little while, 

An' nen she'd let 'em fly away, she would, 

An' ist skip on adin to her Dran'ma's. 

An' so, while she uz doin' 'long an' 'long, 
First thing you know they 'uz a drate big old 
Mean wicked Wolf jumped out 'at wanted t' eat 
Her up, but dassent to — 'cause wite clos't there 
They wuz a Man a-choppin' wood, an' you 
Could hear him. — So the old Wolf he 'uz [uau%l 

107 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Only to ist be hind to her. — So he 

1st 'tended like he wuz dood friends to her 

An' says " Dood-morning, little Red Riding Hood!"- 

Ali ist as kind! 

An' nen Riding Hood 
She say "Dood-morning," too— all kind an' nice— 
Ist like her Ma she learn'— No! — mustn't say 
"Learn," cause "Learn 11 it's unproper. — So she say 
It like her Ma she "teached" her.— An' — so she 
Ist says "Dood-morning" to the Wolf— 'cause she 
Don't know ut-tall 'at he's a -wicked Wolf 
An' want to eat her up ! 

Nen old Wolf smile 
An' say, so kind: "Where air you doin' at? " 
Nen little Red Riding Hood she says: "I'm doin* 
To my Dran'ma's, 'cause my Ma say I might." 



ic8 



MATMIE'S STORT OF RED RIDING HOOD 

Nen, when she tell him that, the old Wolf he 
1st turn an' light out frough the big thick woods, 
Where she can't see him any more. An so 
She think he's went to his house — but he haint, — 
He's went to her Dran'ma's, to be there first — 
An' ketch her, ef she don't watch mighty sharp 
What she's about! 

An' nen when the old Wolf 
Dit to her Dran'ma's house, he's purty smart, — 
An' so he 'tend-like he's Red Riding Hood, 
An' knock at th' door. An' Riding Hood's Dran'ma 
She's sick in bed an' can't come to the door 
An' open it. So th' old Wolf knock two times. 
An' nen Red Riding Hood's Dran'ma she says 
11 Who's there?" she says. An' old Wolf 'tends-Iike he's 
Little Red Riding Hood, you know, an' make' 
His voice soun' ist like hers, an' says: "it's me, 



IQ9 



A CHILD- WORLD 

Dran'ma — an' I'm Red Riding Hood an' I'm 
1st come to see you." 

Nen her old Dran'ma 
She think it is little Red Riding Hood, 
An' so she say : " Well, come in nen an' make 
You'se'f at home," she says, "'cause I'm down sick 
In bed, and got the 'ralgia, so's I can't 
Dit up an' let ye in." 

An' so th' old Wolf 
1st march' in nen an' shet the door adin, 
An' drowl, he did, an' spltmge up on the bed 
An' et up old Miz Riding Hood 'fore she 
Could put her specs on an' see who it wuz. — 
An' so she never knowed who et her up ! 

An' nen the wicked Wolf he ist put on 
Her nightcap, an' all covered up in bed- 
Like he wuz her, you know. 

no 



MAT M TIL'S STORT OF RED RIDING HOOD 

Nen, purty soon 
Here come along little Red Riding Hood, 
An' she knock' at the door. An' old Wolf 'tend 
Like he's her Dran'ma ; an' he say, "Who's there?" 
1st like her Dran'ma say, you know. An' so 
Little Red Riding Hood she say " It's *»<?, 
Dran'ma— an' I'm Red Riding Hood and I'm 
1st come to see you." 

An' nen old Wolf nen 
He cough an' say: "Well, come in nen an' make 
You'se'f at home," he says, " 'cause I'm down sick 
In bed, an' got the 'ralgia, so's I can't 
Git up an' let ye in." 

An' so she think 
It's her Dran'ma a-talkin'. — So she ist 
Open' the door an' come in, an' set down 
Her basket, an' taked off her things, an' bringed 
A chair an' dumbed up on the bed, wite by 

in 



A CHILD-WORLD 

» 

The old big Woif she thinks is her Dran'ma. — 
Only she thinks the old Wolf's got whole lots 
More bigger ears, an' lots more whiskers, too, 
Than her Dran'ma; an' so Red Riding Hood 
She's kindo' skeered a little. So she says 
"Oh, Dran'ma, what big eyes you dot!" An' nen 
The old Wolf says: "They're ist big thataway 
'Cause I'm so dlad to see you! " 

Nen she says, — 
"Oh, Dran'ma, what a drate big nose you dot!" 
Nen th' old Wolf says : " It's ist big thataway 
Ist 'cause I smell the dood things 'at you bringed 
Me in the basket! " 

An' nen Riding Hood 
She say " Oh-me-oh-w? / Dran'ma! what big 
W f hite long sharp teeth you dot!" 

Nen old Wolf says 
"Yes— an' they're thataway "—an' drowled— 

112 



MAYMIES STORY OF RED RIDING HOOD 

" They're thataway," he says, "to eat you wiv!" 

An' nen he ist jump* at her. — 

But she scream 1 — 

An' scream\ she did— So's 'at the Man 

'At wuz a-choppin' wood, you know, — he hear, 

An' come a-runnin' in there wiv his ax; 

An', 'fore the old Wolf know' what he's about, 

He split his old brains out an' killed him s'quick 

It make' his head swim ! — An' Red Riding Hood 

She wuzn't hurt at all ! 

An' the big Man 

He tooked her all safe home, he did, an' tell 

Her Ma she's all right an' ain't hurt at all 

An' old Wolfs dead an' killed— an' ever'thing !— 

So her Ma wuz so tickled an' so proud, 

She gived him all the good things t' eat they wuz 

'At's in the basket, an' she tell him 'at 

She's much oblige', an' say to "call adin." 

An' story's honest truth — an' all so, too! 

in 



LIMITATIONS OF GENIUS 

HE audience entire seemed pleased — indeed 
Extremely pleased. And little Maymie, freed 
From her task of instructing, ran to show 
Her wondrous colored picture to and fro 
Among the company. 

"And how comes it," said 
Some one to Mr. Hammond, "that, instead 
Of the inventor's life you did not choose 
The artist's ?— since the world can better lose 
A cutting-box or reaper than it can 
A noble picture painted by a man 
Endowed with gifts this drawing would suggest"— 
Holding the picture up to show the rest. 
" There now! 11 chimed in the wife, her pale face lit 
Like winter snow with sunrise over it, — 

114 



MR. HAMMOND CATECHISED 

" That's what Vm always asking him. — But he- 
Well, as he's answering you, he answers me, — 
With that same silent, suffocating smile 
He's wearing now ! " 

For quite a little while 
No further speech from anyone, although 
All looked at Mr. Hammond and that slow, 
Immutable, mild smile of his. And then 
The encouraged querist asked him yet again 
Why was it, and etcetera — with all 
The rest, expectant, waiting 'round the wall, — 
Until the gentle Mr. Hammond said 
He'd answer with a "parable," instead — 
About "a dreamer" that he used to know — 
An artist"— " master"— all— in embryo* 



u 



115 



H 



MR. HAMMOND'S PARABLE 

THE DREAMER 

I 

E was a Dreamer of the Days: 
Indolent as a lazy breeze 
Of midsummer, in idlest ways 

Lolling about in the shade of trees. 
The farmer turned— as he passed him by 

Under the hillside where he kneeled 
Plucking a flower — with scornful eye 

And rode ahead in the harvest field 
Muttering—" Lawz ! ef that-air shirk 

Of a boy was mine fer a week er so, 
He'd quit drcamiri and git to work 

And aim his livin' — er— Well ! / know ! " 
And even kindlier rumor said, 
Tapping with finger a shaking head,— 

116 



it 



MR. HAMMOND'S PARABLE 

Got such a curious kind o' way— 
Wouldn't surprise me much, I say!" 

Lying limp, with upturned gaze 
Idly dreaming away his days. 
No companions? Yes,- a book 
Sometimes under his arm he took 
To read aloud to a lonesome brook. 

And school-boys, truant, once had heard 
A strange voice chanting, faint and dim — 
Followed the echoes, and found it him, 

Perched in a tree-top like a bird, 
Singing, clean from the highest limb ; 
And, fearful and awed, they all slipped by 
To wonder in whispers if he could fly. 



117 



A CHILD-WORLD 

" Let him alone ! " his father said 

When the old schoolmaster came to say, 
" He took no part in his books to-day — 
Only the lesson the readers read. — 
His mind seems sadly going astray!" 
"Let him alone!" came the mournful tone, 
And the father's grief in his sad eyes shone- 
Hiding his face in his trembling hand, 
Moaning, " Would 1 could understand ! 
But as heaven wills it I accept 
Uncomplainingly ! " So he wept. 

Then went "The Dreamer" as he willed, 
As uncontrolled as a light sail filled 
Flutters about with an empty boat 
Loosed from its moorings and afloat: 
Drifted out from the busy quay 
Of dull school-moorings listlessly; 

118 



MR. HAMMOND'S PARABLE 

Drifted off on the talking breeze, 
All alone with his reveries ; 
Drifted on, as his fancies wrought — 
Out on the mighty gulfs of thought. 

II 

The farmer came in the evening gray 

And took the bars of the pasture down ; 
Called to the cows in a coaxing way, 
" Bess " and " Lady " and " Spot " and " Brown," 
While each gazed with a wide-eyed stare, 
As though surprised at his coming there- 
Till another tone, in a higher key, 
Brought their obeyance lothfully. 

Then, as he slowly turned and swung 

The topmost bar to its proper rest, 

Something fluttered along and clung 

An instant, shivering at his breast— 

119 



A CHILD- WORLD 

A wind-scared fragment of legal cap, 
Which darted again, as he struck his hand 

On his sounding chest with a sudden slap, 
And hurried sailing across the land. 
But as it clung he had caught the glance 
Of a little penciled countenance, 
And a glamour of written words ; and hence, 
A minute later, over the fence, 
" Here and there and gone astray 
Over the hills and far away," 
He chased it into a thicket of trees 
And took it away from the captious breeze. 

A scrap of paper with a rhyme 
Scrawled upon it of summertime: 
A pencil-sketch of a dairy-maid, 
Under a farmhouse porch's shade, 



1 20 



MR. HAMMOND'S PARABLE 

Working merrily ; and was blent 
With her glad features such sweet content, 
That a song she sung in the lines below 
Seemed delightfully apropos : — 

SONG 

"Why do I sing— Tra-la-la-la-Ia! ■ 
Glad as a King? — Tra-Ia-la-Ia-la! 
Well, since you ask, — 
I have such a pleasant task, 
I can not help but sing! 

"Why do I smile— Tra-la-Ia-la-lal 
Working the while?— Tra-Ia-la-la-la ! 
Work like this is play — 
So I'm playing all the day — 
I can not help but smile! 

"So, if you please — Tra-la-la-la-la! 
Live at your ease !— Tra-la-la-la-la ! 
You've only got to turn. 
And, you see, its bound to churn- 
It can not help but please!" 

121 



A CHILD-WORLD 

The farmer pondered and scratched his head, 
Reading over each mystic word. — 
" Some o' the Dreamer's work ! " he said— 
"Ah, here's more — and name and date 
In his hand-write* ! " — And the good man reaa,- 
"' Patent applied for, July third, 

Eighteen hundred and forty-eight ' i " 
The fragment fell from his nerveless grasp — 
His awed lips thrilled with the joyous gasp : 
" I see the p'int to the whole concern, — 
He's studied out a patent churn ! " 



122 



A 



FLORETTY'S MUSICAL CONTRIBUTION 

LL seemed delighted, though the elders more, 
Of course, than were the children.— Thus, before 
Much interchange of mirthful compliment, 
The story-teller said his stories "went" 
(Like a bad candle) best when they went out, — 
And that some sprightly music, dashed about, 
Would wholly quench his "glimmer," and inspire 
Far brighter lights. 

And, answering this desire, 
The flutist opened, in a rapturous strain 
Of rippling notes — a perfect April-rain 
Of melody that drenched the senses through ; — 
Then — gentler— gentler — as the dusk sheds dew, 
It fell, by velvety, staccatoed halts, 
Swooning away in old "Von Weber's Waltz." 

123 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Then the young ladies sang "Isle of the Sea" — 
In ebb and flow and wave so billowy, — 
Only with quavering breath and folded eyes 
The listeners heard, buoyed on the fall and rise 
Of its insistent and exceeding stress 

Of sweetness and ecstatic tenderness 

With lifted finger yet, Remembrance — List! — 
"Beautiful isle of the sea!" wells in a mist 

Of tremulous 

.... After much whispering 
Among the children, Alex came to bring 
Some kind of letter — as it seemed to be — 
To Cousin Rufus. This he carelessly 
Unfolded— reading to himself alone, — 
But, since its contents became, later, known, 
And no one "plagued so awful bad," the same 
May here be given — of course without full name, 






A MUSICAL INCLOSURE 

Fac-simile, or written kink or curl 
Or clue. It read : — 

"Wild Roved an indian Girl 

Brite al Floretty" 

deer freind 

i now take 

4l i iy These means to send that Song to you & make 

my Prom us good to you in the Regards 

Of doing What i Promust afterwards. 

the notes & Words is both here Printed sos 

you -ki«- can git uncle Mart to read you thorn" those 

& cousin Rufus you can git to Play 

the notes fur you on eny Plezunt day 

His Legul Work aint Prescift* Pressing. 

Ever thine 
As shore as the Vine 

doth the Stump intwine 

thou art my Lump of Sackkerrine 

Rinaldo Rinaldine 

the Pirut in Captivity. 

There dropped 

Another square scrap.— But the hand was stopped 

125 



A CHILD-WORLD 

That readied for it — Floretty suddenly 
Had set a firm foot on her property — 
Thinking it was the letter, not the song, — 
But blushing to discover she was wrong, 
When, with all gravity of face and air, 
Her precious letter handed to her there 
By Cousin Rufus left her even more 
In apprehension than she was before. 
But, testing his unwavering, kindly eye, 
She seemed to put her last suspicion by, 
And, in exchange, handed the song to him. — 

A page torn from a song-book : Small and dim 

Both notes and words were— but as plain as day 

They seemed to him, as he began to play — 

And plain to all the singers, — as he ran 

An airy, warbling prelude, then began 

Singing and swinging in so blithe a strain, 

That every voice rang in the old refrain : 

126 




MOUNTAIN MAIB'S INVITATION. 



ARRANGED BT J. X. 60XJIS>. 



B^-^i 






; h= — 

T - 



ft 



r 



~=li=^=lsi 



T 



•&• 






Come ! come ! come ! O'er the hills, 

: *'fcEf^E£Ef^ 



fees from care, . In my home true pleasure share ; Blossoms sweet, flow 'rs most rare 






i=r 






' ' V' 1 " 1 ' ' ^sH-^w-i t«ta, — ^ 

•p r i r 



Cprao whsre ,»oy? ate fonwi. Hare the sparkling <le»(3 of»«ro Tree and shrub »ith 

ESzJ|p!^pii^|Eg^^zfE^g^g 

- — L_ jr _„i : _ t ._!_ *-*— — — ' ' _x 



^ 







4. ? — > < — j — -Cf j .|.. . .|r^iry,. g _ # _. 

Beau-ty all a - round'. Tra la la la, 



riS-r-rf: 



g&i-i? worn, Bf.au-ir all 



f , 

v ii|r^-i»— »'^^ 



1 la, tra la' la, 



Tra 

X 



N S -i 



,.: » ;,: <t 



^1 



=!=Xpt 



tra la la, 

""I ' " I! 'I 



Trf —J 



gai - ly worn. 



f 



Beau - ty all a - round. 

saw: aP»\ M Q jja ^yiBhtt 

— -+ — 
^ — 



Come ! eome ! vcome ! 
Not a sigh, not a tear, * 
E'er is found in^ffhiess hera, 
Music sett, brestihiag near, 
Charmsaway each care! 
Birds, in joyous bu€r% among 
Mill and dell, with 'jtratefu W>n 
Dearest strains here ['tol'^fe' 

Vocal all the air ! 

Tra la, la la, tra la la, J® 

"Tra la la la, tra la la, 9 
Dearest stratus here prolong, i 

Vocal all the air ! 



Come ! come ! come ! 
When the day's gently gone, 
Evening shadows coming on, 
Tlsen, by lore, kindly won, 

Truest bliss be thine ! 
Ne'er was found a bliss so purs, 
Never joys so long endure ; 
Who would not love seeure ? 

Who would joys decline ? 

Tra la la la, tra la la, 

Tra la la la, tra la la, 
Who would not love secure-? 

Who would joys decline ? 






->■■-■■■ ■ ■■■■■-:■■■■■>■■: ■■■-■■ -'J- .■■:■■■■■■■.-:■: 



THE JOKER VANQUISHED 

From the beginning of the song, clean through, 
Floretty's features were a study to 
The flutist who "read notes'''' so readily, 
Yet read so little of the mystery 
Of that face of the girl's. — Indeed one thing 
Bewildered him quite into worrying, 
And that was, noticing, throughout it all, 
The Hired Man shrinking closer to the wall, 
She ever backing toward him through the throng 
Of barricading children — till the song 
Was ended, and at last he saw her near 
Enough to reach and take him by the ear 
And pinch it just a pang's worth of her ire 
And leave it burning like a coal of fire. 
He noticed, too, in subtle pantomime 
She seemed to dust him off, from time to time; 
And when somebody, later, asked if she 
Had never heard the song before— "What! mt?" 

127 



A CHILD-WORLD 

She said — then blushed again and smiled, — 

" I've knowed that song sence Adam was a child ! — 

It's jes a joke o' this-here man's.— He's learned 

To read and write a. little, and its turned 

His fool-head some — That's all ! " 

And then some one 
Of the loud-wrangling boys said — " Course they's none 
No more, these days ! — They's Fairies ust to be, 
But they're all dead, a hunderd years!" said he. 

"Well, there's where you're mustakened!" — in reply 
They heard Bud's voice, pitched sharp and thin and high. — 

"An* how you goin' to prove it ! " 

"Well, I kin J" 

Said Bud, with emphasis, — " They's one lives in 

Our garden — and I see 'im wunst, wiv my 

Own eyes— one time I did." 

"O//, what a lie!" 
—"'Sk! u 

128 



A MODERN FA1RT 



a 



Well, nen," said the skeptic— seeing there 
The older folks attracted — " Tell us where 
You saw him, an' all 'bout him ! ' 

" Yes, my son. — 
If you tell 'stories,' you may tell us one," 
The smiling father said, while Uncle Mart, 
Behind him, winked at Bud, and pulled apart 
His nose and chin with comical grimace — 
Then sighed aloud, with sanctimonious face, — 
" L How good and comely it is to see 

Children and parents in friendship agree ! ' — 
You fire away, Bud, on your Fairy-tale — 
Your Uncle's here to back you!" 

Somewhat pale, 
And breathless as to speech, the little man 
Gathered himself. And thus his story ran. 



129 



s 



BUD'S FAIRY-TALE 

OME peoples thinks they ain't no Fairies now 
No more yet! — But they is, I bet! 'Cause ef 
They wu^n't Fairies, nen V like to know 
Who'd w'ite 'bout Fairies in the books, an' tell 
What Fairies does, an' how their picture looks, 
An' all an' ever'thing ! W'y, ef they don't 
Be Fairies anymore, nen little boys 
'U'd ist sleep when they go to sleep an' wont 
Have ist no dweams at all, — 'Cause Fairies — gooJ 
Fairies — they're a-purpose to make dweams! 
But they is Fairies — an' I know they is ! 
'Cause one time wunst, when its all Summertime, 
An' don't haf to be no fires in the stove 
Er fireplace to keep warm wiv— ner don't haf 

no 



BUD'S FAIR}'- TALE 

To wear old scratchy flannen shirts at all, 

An' aint no freeze — ner cold — ner snow!— An' — an' 

Old skweeky twees got all the gween leaves on 

An' ist keeps noddin', noddin' all the time, 

Like they 'uz lazy an' a-twyin' to go 

To sleep an' couldn't, 'cause the wind won't quit 

A-blowin' in 'em, an' the birds won't stop 

A-singin', so's they kin. — But twees don't sleep, 

1 guess ! But little boys sleeps — an' drueams, too. — 

An' that's a sign they's Fairies. 

So, one time, 
When 1 ben playin' "Store" wunst over in 
The shed of their old stable, an' Ed Howard 
He maked me quit a-bein' pardners, 'cause 
I drinked the 'tend-like sody-water up 
An' et the shore-nuff crackers.— W'y, nen I 
Clumbed over in our garden where the gwapes 
Wuz purt'-nigh ripe: An' I wuz ist a-layin' 

131 



A CHILD-WORLD 

There on th' old cwooked seat 'at Pa maked in 

Our arbor,— an' so I 'uz layin' there 

A-whittlin' beets wiv my new dog-knife, an' 

A-lookin' wite up through the twimbly leaves — 

An' wuzn't 'sleep at all !— An'-sir ! — first thing 

You know, a little Fairy hopped out there ! — 

A leetle-teenty Fairy I — hope-may-die ! 

An' he look' down at me, he did — An' he 

Ain't bigger'n a yellerbird! — an' he 

Say " Howdy-do!" he did — an' I could hear 

Him— ist as plain! 

Nen / say "Howdy-do! " 
An' he say "I'm all hunkey, Nibsey; how 
Is your folks comin' on?" 

An' nen I say 
"My name ain't ' Nibsey ,' neever— my name's Dud.- 
An' what's your name?" I says to him. 



132 



BUD'S FAIRY-TALE 

An' he 
1st laugh an' say " 'Bud's awful funny name ! " 
An' he ist laid back on a big bunch o' gwapes 
An' laugh' an' laugh', he did— like somebody 
'Uz tick-el-un his feet! 

An' nen I say — 
" What's your name," nen I say, "afore you bust 
Yo'-se'f a-laughin' 'bout my name?" I says. 
An' nen he dvvy up laughin' — kindo' mad — 
An' say " W'y, my name's Squidjicum" he says. 
An' nen / laugh an' say—" Gee! what a name!" 
An' when I make fun of his name, like that, 
He ist git awful mad an' spunky, an' 
'Fore you know, he gwabbed holt of a vine — 
A big long vine 'at's danglin' up there, an' 
He ist helt on wite tight to that, an' down 
He swung quick past my face, he did, an' ist 
Kicked at me hard's he could ! 

*33 



A CHILD- WORLD 

But I'm too quick 
Fer Mr. Squidjicum! I ist weached out 
An' ketched him, in my hand— an' helt him, too, 
An' squeezed him, ist like little wobins when • 
They can't fly yet an' git flopped out their nest. 
An' nen I turn him all wound over, an' 
Look at him clos't, you know— wite clos't,— 'cause ef 
He is a Fairy, w'y, I want to see 
The wings he's got.— But he's dwessed up so fine 
'At I can't see no wings.— An' all the time 
He's twyin' to kick me yet: An' so I take 
F'esh holts an' squeeze agin— an' harder, too; 
An' I says, "Hold up, Mr. Squidjicuml— 
You're kickin' the w'ong man!" I says; an' nen 
I ist squeeze'' him, purt'-nigh my best, I did — 
An' I heerd somepin' bust!— An' nen he cwied 
An' says, "You better look out what you're doin' !— 
You' bust' my spiderweb-suspen'ners, an' 

1.34 



BUD'S FA1RT-TALE 

You' got my roseleaf-coat all cwinkled up 
So's I can't go to old Miss Hoodjicum's 
Tea-party, 's'afternoon ! " 

An' nen I says — 
''Who's 'old Miss Hoodjicum'?" I says. 

An' he 
Says " Ef you lemme loose I'll tell you." 

So 
1 helt the little skeezics 'way fur out 
In one hand— so's he can't jump down t' th' ground 
Wivout a-gittin' all stove up : an' nen 
I says, "You're loose now.— Go ahead an' tell 
'Bout the 'tea-party' where you're goin' at 
So awful fast!" I says. 

An' nen he say, — 
"No use to tell you 'bout it, 'cause you wont 
Believe it, 'less you go there your own se'f 
An' see it wiv your own two eyes!" he says. 

135 



A CHILD-WORLD 

An' he says: " Ef you lemme shore-miff loose, 
An' p'omise 'at you'll keep wite still, an' won't 
Tetch nothin' 'at you see — an' never tell 
Nobody in the world — an' lemme loose — 
W'y, nen I'll take you there!" 

But I says, "Yes 
An' ef 1 let you loose, you'll run! 11 I says. 
An' he says "No, I won't!— I hope may die!" 
Nen I says, "Cross your heart you won't!" 

An' he 
1st cross his heart; an' nen I reach an' set 
The little feller up on a long vine — 
An' he 'uz so tickled to git loose agin, 
He gwab' the vine wiv boff his little hands 
An' ist take an' turn in, he did, an' skin 
'Bout forty-'leven cats ! 

Nen when he git 
Through whirlin' wound the vine, an' set on top 

136 



BUD'S FAIRY-TALE 

Of it agin, w'y, °en his " woseleaf-coat " 

He bwag so much about, it's ist all tored 

Up, an' ist hangin' strips an' rags— so he 

Look like his Pa's a dwunkard. An' so nen 

When he see what he's done— a-actin' up 

So smart, — he's awful mad, I guess; an' ist 

Pout out his lips an' twis' his little face 

Ist ugly as he kin, an' set an' tear 

His whole coat off — an' sleeves an' all. — An' nen 

He wad it all togevver an' ist throw 

It at me ist as hard as he kin drive! 

An' when I weach to ketch him, an' 'uz goin' 

To give him 'nuvver squeezin', he ist flewed 

Clean up on top the arbor! — 'Cause, you know, 

They wu% wings on him — when he tored his coat 

Clean off— they wu^ wings under there. But they 

Wuz purty wobbly-like an' wouldn't work 

Hardly at all— 'Cause purty soon, when I 

137 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Throwed clods at him, an' sticks, an' got him shooed 

Down off o' there, he come a-floppin' down 

An' lit k-bang ! on our old chicken-coop, 

An' ist laid there a-whimperV like a child ! 
An' I tiptoed up wite clos't, an' I says " What's 

The matter wiv ye, Squidjicum?" 

An' he 

Says: "Dog-gone! when my wings gits stwaight agin, 

Where you all crumpled 'em," he says, " 1 bet 

I'll ist fly clean away an' won't take you 

To old Miss Hoodjicum's at all!" he says. 

An' nen I ist weach out wite quick', 1 did, 

An' gwab the sassy little snipe agin — 

Nen tooked my topstwing an' tie down his wings 

So's he can't fly, 'less'n I want him to ! 

An' nen I says : " Now, Mr. Squidjicum, 

You better ist light out," I says, "to old 

Miss Hoodjicum's, an' show me how to git 

138 



B UD* S FA III 1 '- TA L E 

There, too," I says; " er ef you don't," I says, 
" I'll climb up wiv you on our buggy-shed 
An' push you off ! " I says. 

An nen he say 
All wight, he'll show me there ; an' tell me nen 
To set him down wite easy on his feet, 
An' loosen up the stwing a little where 
It cut him under th' arms. An' nen he says, 
" Come on ! " he says ; an' went a-limpin' 'long 
The garden-path— an' Iimpin' 'long an' 'long 
Tel — purty soon he come on 'long to where's 
A grea'-big cabbage-leaf. An' he stoop down 
An' say "Come on inunder here wiv me!" 
So / stoop down an' crawl inunder there, 
Like he say. 

An' inunder there's a grea' 
Big clod, they is — a awful grea' big clod ! 
An' nen he says, "Roll this-h ere clod away!" 

139 



u 



a 



a 



A CHILD-WORLD 

An' so I roll' the clod away. An' nen 
It's all wet, where the dew'z inunder where 
The old clod wuz, — an' nen the Fairy he 
Git on the wet-place: Nen he say to me 
Git on the wet-place, too! " An' nen he say, 
Now hold yer breff an' shet yer eyes ! " he says, 
Tel I say Squinchy-winchy /" Nen he say — 
Somepin in Dutch, I guess.— An' nen I felt 
Like we 'uz sinkin' down— an' sinkin' down !— 
Tel purty soon the little Fairy weach 
An' pinch my nose an' yell at me an' say, 
"Squinchy-winchy ! Look wherever you please ! " 
Nen when I looked— Oh ! they 'uz purtyest place 
Down there you ever saw in all the World !— 
They 'uz 1st /lowers an' woses — yes, an' twees 
Wiv blossoms on an' big ripe apples boff! 
An' butterflies, they wuz— an' hummin'-birds— 
An' yellowblrds an' bluebirds — yes, an' red! — 

140 



B UD'S FA IR 1 "> TA L E 

An' ever'wheres an' all awound 'uz vines 
Wiv ripe p'serve-pcars on 'em ! — Yes, an' all 
An' ever'thing 'at's ever gwowin' in 
A garden — er canned up — all ripe at wunst! — 
It wuz ist like a garden — only it 
'Uz ist a little bit o' garden — 'bout big wound 
As ist our twun'el-bed is. — An' all wound 
An' wound the little garden's a gold fence — 
An' little gold gate, too — an' ash-hoppcr 
'At's all gold, too — an' ist full o' gold ashes! 
An' wite in th' middle o' the garden wuz 
A little gold house, 'at's ist 'bout as big 
As ist a bird-cage is : An' in the house 
They 'uz whole-lots more Fairies there — 'cause I 
Picked up the little house, an' peeked in at 
The winders, an' I see 'em all in there 
Ist luggiri round ! An' Mr. Squidjicum 
He twy to make me quit, but I gwab hint, 

T41 



A CHILD- WORLD 

An' poke him down the chimbly, too, I did !— 

An' y'ort to see him hop out 'mongst 'em there !- 

1st like he 'uz the boss an' ist got back ! — 

"Hain't ye got on t hem-air dewdumplin's yet ? " 

He says. 

An' they says no. 

An' nen he says 

" Better git at 'em nen!" he says, " wife quick- 
Cause old Miss Hoodjicum's a-comitC .' " 

Nen 

They all set wound a little gold tub — an' 

All 'menced a-peelin' dewdrops, ist like they 

'Uz peaches. — An', it looked so funny, I 

Ist laugh' out loud, an' dropped the little house,— 

An' 't busted like a soap-bubble!— An't skeered 

Me so, I — I — I — [,— it skeered me so, — 

I — ist waked up. — No ! I aint ben asleep 

An' dream it all, like you think, — but its shore 

Fer-certain fact an' cross my heart it is ! 

142 



A 



A DELICIOUS INTERRUPTION 

LL were quite gracious in their plaudits of 
Bud's Fairy; but another stir above 
That murmur was occasioned by a sweet 
Young lady-caller, from a neighboring street, 
Who rose reluctantly to say good-night 
To all the pleasant friends and the delight 
Experienced, — as she had promised sure 
To be back home by nine. Then paused, demure, 
And wondered was it very dark. — Oh, no! — 
She had come by herself and she could go 
Without an escort. Ah, you sweet girls all ! 
What young gallant but comes at such a call, 
Your most abject of slaves ! Why, there were three 
Young men, and several men of family, 

M3 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Contesting for the honor — which at last 
Was given to Cousin Rufus ; and he cast 
A kingly look behind him, as the pair 
Vanished with laughter in the darkness there. 

As order was restored, with everything 

Suggestive, in its way, of "romancing," 

Some one observed that now would be the chance 

For Noey to relate a circumstance 

That he — the very specious rumor went — 

Had been eye-witness of, by accident. 

Noey turned pippin-crimson ; then turned pale 

As death ; then turned to flee, without avail. — 

"There! head him off! Now! hold him in his chair!- 

Tell us the Serenade-tale, now, Noey. — There!" 



144 



NOEY'S NIGHT-PIECE 

" HH HEY ain't much 'tale' about it!" Noey said.— 
" K'tawby grapes wuz gittin' good-n-red 
I rickollect; and Tubb Kingry and me 
'Ud kindo' browse round town, daytime, to see 
What neighbers 'peared to have the most to spare 
'At wuz git-at-able and no dog there 
When we come round to git 'em, say 'bout ten 
O'clock at night when mostly old foiks then 
Wuz snorin' at each other like they yit 
Helt some old grudge 'at never slep' a bit. 
Well, at the Pars' trigs— ef ye'll call to mind, — 
They's 'bout the biggest grape-arber you'll find 
'Most anywheres. — And mostly there, we knowed 
They wuz k'tawbies thick as ever growed — 

M5 



A CHILD-WORLD 

And more'n they'd p } serve. — Besides I've heerJ 
Ma say k'tawby-grape-p'serves jes 'peared 
A waste o' sugar, anyhow!— And so 
My conscience stayed outside and lem me go 
With Tubb, one night, the back-way, clean up through 
That long black arber to the end next to 
The house, where the k'tawbies, don't you know, 
Wuz thickest. And t'uz lucky we went slow, — 
Fer jest as we wuz cropin' tords the gray- 
End, like, of the old arber — heerd Tubb say 
In a skeered whisper, 'Hold up! They's some one 
Jes slippin' in here ! — and looks like a gun 
He's carryin' ! ' I golly I we both spread 
Out flat aginst the ground ! 

"'What's that?' Tubb said.— 
And jest then — ''plink! plunk! plink!' we heerd something 
Under the back-porch-winder. — Then, i jing! 



146 



NOET'S NIGHT-PIECE 

Of course we rickollected 'bout the young 

School-mam 'at wuz a-boardin' there, and sung, 

And played on the melodium in the choir. — 

And she 'uz 'bout as purty to admire 

As any girl in town !— the fac's is, she 

Jest ivu-, them times, to a dead certainty, 

The belle o' this-here bailywick !— But — Well,— 

I'd best git back to what I'm tryin' to tell : — 

It wuz some feller come to serenade 

Miss Wetherell : And there he plunked and played 

His old guitar, and sung, and kep' his eye 

Set on her winder, blacker'n the sky! — 

And black it stayed.— But mayby she wuz 'way 

From home, er wore out — bein' Saturday.' 

" It seemed a good-'eal longer, but I know 

He sung and plunked there half a' hour er so 



147 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Afore, it 'peared like, he could ever git 

His own free qualified consents to quit 

And go off 'bout his business. When he went 

I bet you could a-bought him fer a cent! 

"And now, behold ye all ! — as Tubb and me 
Wuz 'bout to raise up, — right in front we see 
A feller slippin' out the arber, square 
Smack under that-air little winder where 
The other feller had been standin'. — And 
The thing he wuz a-carryin' in his hand 
Wuzn't no gun at all !— It wuz afluU, — 
And ivhoop-ee! how it did git up and toot 
And chirp and warble, tel a mockin'-bird 
'Ud dast to never let hisse'f be heerd 
Ferever, after sich miracalous, high 
Jim-cracks and grand skyrootics played there by 



1 43 



NOETS NIGHT-PIECE 

Yer Cousin Rufus! — Yes-sir; it wuz him ! — 

And what's more, — all a-suddent that-air dim 

Dark winder o' Miss Wetherell's wuz lit 

Up like a' oyshture-sign, and under it 

We see him sort o' wet his lips and smile 

Down 'long his row o' dancin' fingers, while 

He kindo' stiffened up and kinked his breath 

And everlastin'ly jest blowed the peth 

Out o' that-air old one-keyed flute o' his. 

And, bless their hearts, that's all the 'tale' they is!" 

And even as Noey closed, all radiantly 
The unconscious hero of the history, 
Returning, met a perfect driving storm 
Of welcome— a reception strangely warm 
And unaccountable, to him, although 
Most gratifying— &x\<\ he told them so. 



149 



A CHILD- WORLD 

"I only urge," he said, "my right to be 
Enlightened." And a voice said: "Certainly:— 
During your absence we agreed that you 
Should tell us all a story, old or new, 
Just in the immediate happy frame of mind 
We knew you would return In." 

So, resigned, 
The ready flutist tossed his hat aside- 
Glanced at the children, smiled, and thus complied. 



150 



M 



COUSIN RUFUS' STORY 

Y little story, Cousin Rufus said, 
Is not so much a story as a fact. 
It is about a certain willful boy — 
An aggrieved, unappreciated boy, 
Grown to dislike his own home very much, 
By reason of his parents being not 
At all up to his rigid standard and 
Requirements and exactions as a son 
And disciplinarian. 

So, sullenly 
He brooded over his disheartening 
Environments and limitations, till, 
At last, well knowing that the outside world 
Would yield him favors never found at home, 

151 



A CHILD-WORLD 

He rose determinedly one July dawn- 
Even before the call for breakfast — and, 
Climbing the alley-fence, and bitterly 
Shaking his clenched fist at the woodpile, lie 
Evanished down the turnpike. — Yes : he had, 
Once and for all, put into execution 
His long low-muttered threatenings — He had 
Run off! — He had — had run away from home! 

His parents, at discovery of his flight, 
Bore up first-rate — especially his Pa, — 
Quite possibly recalling his own youth, 
And therefrom predicating, by high noon, 
The absent one was very probably 
Disporting his nude self in the delights 
Of the old swimmin'-hole, some hundred yards 
Below the slaughter-house, just east of town. 



1^2 



COUSIN It If F US* ST OR V 

The stoic father, too, in his surmise 

Was accurate— For, lo ! the boy was there ! 

And there, too, he remained throughout the day- 
Save at one starving interval in which 
He clad his sunburnt shoulders long enough 
To shy across a wheatfield, shadow-like, 
And raid a neighboring orchard — bitterly, 
And with spasmodic twitchings of the lip, 
Bethinking him how all the other boys 
Had homes to go to at the dinner-hour — 
While he — alas! — he had no home! — At least 
These very words seemed rising mockingly, 
Until his every thought smacked raw and sour 
And green and bitter as the apples he 
In vain essayed to stay his hunger with. 



153 



A CHILD- WORLD 

Nor did he join the glad shouts when the boys 
Returned rejuvenated for the long 
Wet revel of the feverish afternoon. — 
Yet, bravely, as his comrades splashed and swam 
And spluttered, in their weltering merriment, 
He tried to laugh, too, — but his voice was hoarse 
And sounded to him like some other boy's. 
And then he felt a sudden, poking sort 
Of sickness at the heart, as though some cold 
And scaly pain were blindly nosing it 
Down in the dreggy darkness of his breast. 
The tensioned pucker of his purple lips 
Grew ever chillier and yet more tense — 
The central hurt of it slow spreading till 
It did possess the little face entire. 
And then there grew to be a knuckled knot — 
An aching kind of core within his throat — 
An ache, al! dry and swallowless, which seemed 

154 



COUSIN RUFUS* STORT 

To ache on just as bad when he'd pretend 
He didn't notice it as when he did. 
It was a kind of a conceited pain — 
An overbearing, self-assertive and 
Barbaric sort of pain that clean outhurt 
A boy's capacity for suffering — 
So, many times, the little martyr needs 
Must turn himself all suddenly and dive 
From sight of his hilarious playmates and 
Surreptitiously weep under water. 

Thus 
He wrestled with his awful agony 
Till almost dark ; and then, at last— then, with 
The very latest lingering group of his 
Companions, he moved turgidly toward home- 
Nay, rather oo^ed that way, so slow he went,— 
With lothful, hesitating, loitering, 
Reluctant, late-election-returns air, 

155 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Heightened somewhat by the conscience-made resolve 
Of chopping a double-armful of wood 
As he went in by rear way of the kitchen. 
And this resolve he executed ; — yet 
The hired girl made no comment whatsoever, 
But went on washing up the supper-things, 
Crooning the unutterably sad song, " Then think, 
Oh, think how lonely this heart must ever be!" 
Still, with affected carelessness, the boy 
Ranged through the pantry ; but the cupboard-door 
Was locked. Ke sighed then like a wet fore-stick 
And went out on the porch.— At least the pump, 
He prophesied, would meet him kindly and 
Shake hands with him and welcome his return ! 
And long he held the old tin dipper up — 
And oh, how fresh and pure and sweet the draught! 
Over the upturned brim, with grateful eyes 
He saw the back-yard, in the gathering night, 

156 



COUSIN RUFUS' STORT 

Vague, dim and lonesome; but it all looked good: 

The lightning-bugs, against the grape-vines, blinked 

A sort of sallow gladness over his 

Home-coming, with this softening of the heart. 

He did not leave the dipper carelessly 

In the milk-trough. — No: he hung it back upon 

Its old nail thoughtfully — even tenderly. 

All slowly then he turned and sauntered toward 

The rain-barrel at the corner of the house, 

And, pausing, peered into it at the few 

Faint stars reflected there. Then — moved by some 

Strange impulse new to him — he washed his feet. 

He then went in the house— straight on into 

The very room where sat his parents by 

The evening lamp. — The father all intent 

Reading his paper, and the mother quite 

As intent with her sewing. Neither looked 



157 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Up at his entrance — even reproachfully, — 
And neither spoke. 

The wistful runaway 
Drew a long, quavering breath, and then sat down 
Upon the extreme edge of a chair. And all 
Was very still there for a long, long while. — 
Yet everything, someway, seemed ustful-Wke 
And homey and old-fashioned, good and kind, 
And sort of kin to him! — Only too still! 
If somebody would say something — just speak — 
Or even rise up suddenly and come 
And lift him by the ear sheer off his chair — 
Or box his jaws— Lord bless 'em !— ^-tiling !— 
Was he not there to thankfully accept 
Any reception from parental source 
Save this incomprehensible voicelessness. 
O but the silence held its very breath ! 
If but the ticking clock would only strike 

158 



COUSIN RUFUS* STORT 

And for an instant drown the whispering, 
Lisping, sifting sound the katydids 
Made outside in the grassy nowhere. 

Far 
Down some back-street he heard the faint halloo 
Of boys at their night-game of " Town-fox," 
But now with no desire at all to be 
Participating in their sport. — No ; no ; — 
Never again in this world would he want 
To join them there! — he only wanted just 
To stay in home of nights — Always — always — 
Forever and a day ! 

He moved ; and coughed — 
Coughed hoarsely, too, through his rolled tongue; and yet 
No vaguest of parental notice or 
Solicitude in answer — no response — 
No word — no look. O it was deathly still ! — 
So still it was that really he could not 

159 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Remember any prior silence that 

At all approached it in profundity 

And depth and density of utter hush. 

He felt that he himself must break it: So, 

Summoning every subtle artifice 

Of seeming nonchalance and native ease 

And naturalness of utterance to his aid, 

And gazing raptly at the house-cat where 

She lay curled in her wonted corner of 

The hearth-rug, dozing, he spoke airily 

And said: "I see you've got the same old cat!" 



ioo 



BEWILDERING EMOTIONS 

n^HE merriment that followed was subdued— 
As though the story-teller's attitude 
Were dual, in a sense, appealing quite 
As much to sorrow as to mere delight, 
According, haply, to the listener's bent 

Either of sad or merry temperament. — 
"And of your two appeals 1 much prefer 
The pathos," said "The Noted Traveler," — 
" For should I live to twice my present years, 
I know I could not quite forget the tears 
That child-eyes bleed, the little palms nailed wide, 
And quivering soul and body crucified. . . . 
But, bless 'em ! there are no such children here 
To-night, thank God !— Come here to me, my dear ! " 
He said to little Alex, in a tone 
So winning that the sound of it alone 
« 161 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Had drawn a child more lothful to his knee:— 
"And, now-sir, /'// agree if you'll agree,— 
You tell us all a story, and then / 
Will tell one." 

"But I can't." 

" Well, can't you try .?" 
"Yes, Mister: he kin tell one. Alex, tell 
The one, you know, 'at you made up so well, 
About the Bear. He alius tells that one," 
Said Bud, — " He gits it mixed some 'bout the gun 
An' ax the Little Boy had, an' apples, too." — 
Then Uncle Mart said— "There, now! that'll do! — 
Let Alex tell his story his own way! " 
And Alex, prompted thus, without delay 
Began. 



162 



w 



THE BEAR STORY 

THAT ALEX "1ST MAKED UP H!S-OWN-SE'F." 

'Y, wunst they wuz a Little Boy went out 
In the woods to shoot a Bear. So, he went out 
'Way in the grea'-big woods — he did. — An' he 
Wuz goin' along — an' goin' along, you know, 
An' purty soon he heerd soinepin' go "Wooh!" — 
1st thataway — "Woo-ooh!' 1 '' An' he wuz sheered, 
He wuz. An' so he runned an' clumbed a tree — 
A grea'-big tree, he did, — a sicka-more tree. 
An' nen he heerd it ag'in : an' he looked round, 
An' '/'#{ a Bear !—a grea '-big shore-nuff Dear! — 
No : 't'uz two Bears, it wuz — two grea'-big Bears — 
One of 'em wuz — ist one's a grea'-big Bear. — 
But they ist boff went " Wooh!" — An' here they come 
To climb the tree an' git the Little Boy 
An' eat him up! 

163 



A CHILD-WORLD 

An' nen the Little Boy 
He 'uz skeered worse'n ever! An' here come 
The grea'-big Bear a-climbin' th' tree to git 
The Little Boy an' eat him up— Oh, no I— 
It 'uzn't the Big Bear 'at dumb the tree- 
It 'uz the Little Bear. So here he come 
Climbin' the tree— an' climbin' the tree! Nen when 
He git wite closH to the Little Boy, w'y nen 
The Little Boy he ist pulled up his gun 
An' shot the Bear, he did, an' killed him dead! 
An' nen the Bear he failed clean on down out 
The tree — away clean to th^ ground, he did — 
Spling-splung ! he failed plum down, an' killed him, too! 
An' lit wite side o' where the' Big Bear's at. 

An' nen the Big Bear's awful mad, you bet!— 
'Cause— 'cause the Little Boy he shot his gun 
An' killed the Little Bear.— 'Cause the Big Bear 

164 ^ 



THE BEAR STORY 

He— he 'uz the Little Bear's Papa. — An' so here 
He come to climb the big old tree an' git 
The Little Boy an' eat him up ! An' when 
The Little Boy he saw the greet -big Bear 
A-comin', he uz badder skeered, he wuz, 
Than any time! An' so he think he'll climb 
Up higher — 'way up higher in the tree 
Than the old Bear kin climb, you know. — But he- 
He canH climb higher 'an old Bears kin climb, — 
'Cause Bears kin climb up higher in the trees 
Than any little Boys in all the Wo-r-r-ld! 

An' so here come the grea'-big Bear, he did, — 
A-climbin' up — an' up the tree, to git 
The Little Boy an' eat him up ! An' so 
The Little Boy he clumbed on higher, an' higher, 
An' higher up the tree — an' higher — an' higher — 
An' higher'n iss-here house is !— An' here come 

165 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Th' old Bear— clos'ter to him all the time!— 

An' nen — first thing you know, — when th' old Big Bear 

Wuz wite clos't to him — nen the Little Boy 

1st jabbed his gun wite in the old Bear's mouf 

An' shot an' killed him dead ! — No ; I /ergot, — 

He didn't shoot the grea'-big Bear at all — 

'Cause they hi% no load in the gun, you know — 

'Cause when he shot the Little Bear, w'y, nen 

No load 'uz anymore nen in the gun ! 

But th' Little Boy clumbed higher up, he did— 
He clumbed lots higher — an' on up higher— an' higher 
An' higher — tel he ist can't climb no higher, 
'Cause nen the limbs 'uz all so little, 'way 
Up in the teeny-weeny tip-top of 
The tree, they'd break down wiv him ef he don't 
Be keerful ! So he stop an' think: An' nen 
He look around — An' here come th' old Bear! 

166 



THE BEAR STORT 

An' so the Little Boy make up his mind 
He's got to ist git out o' there some way ! — 
'Cause here come the old Bear! — so clos't, his bref's 
Purt 'nigh so's he kin feel how hot it is 
Aginst his bare feet — ist like old "Ring's" bref 
When he's ben out a-huntin' an's all tired. 
So when th' old Bear's so clos't— the Little Boy 
1st gives a grea'-big jump fer 'nother tree — 
No !— no he don't do that ! — I tell you what 
The Little Boy does : — W'y> nen — w'y, he— Oh, yes — 
The Little Boy he finds a hole up there 
'At's in the tree— art climbs in there an' hides — 
An' nen th' old Bear can't find the Little Boy 
At all ! — But, purty soon th' 0I4 Bear finds 
The Little Boy's gun 'at's up there— 'cause the gun 
It's too tall to tooked wiv him in the hole. 
So, when the old Bear find' the gun, he knows 
The Little Boy's ist hid 'round somers there, — 

167 



A CHILD-WORLD 

An' th' old Bear 'gins to snuff an' sniff around, 

An' sniff an' snuff around — so's he kin find 

Out where the Little Boy's hid at. — An' nen — nen — 

Oh, yes! — W'y, purty soon the old Bear climbs 

'Way out on a big limb— a grea'-long limb, — 

An' nen the Little Boy climbs out the hole 

An' takes his ax an' chops the limb off! . . . Nen 

The old Bear falls k-splunge! clean to the ground 

An' bust an' kill hisse'f plum dead, he did ! 

An' nen thiL-Little Boy he git his gun 
An' 'menced a-climbin' down the tree agin — 
No ! — no, he didn't git his gun — 'cause when 
The Bear failed, nen the gun failed, too — An' broked 
It all to pieces, too ! — An' nicest gun ! — 
His Pa ist buyed it!— An' the Little Boy 
1st cried, he did; an' went on climbin' down 
The tree — an' climbin' down— an' climbin' down !— 

168 



THE BEAR STORY 

Art-sir I when he 'uz purt'-nigh down, — w'y, nen 

The old Bear he jumped up agin! — an' he 

Ain't dead at all — ist 'tendin' thataway, 

So he kin git the Little Boy an' eat 

Him up! But the Little Boy he 'uz too smart 

To climb clean down the tree. — An' the old Bear 

He can't climb up the tree no more — 'cause when 

He fell, he broke one of his — He broke all 

His legs! — an' nen he couldn't climb! But he 

Ist won't go 'way an' let the Little Boy 

Come down out of the tree. An' the old Bear 

1st growls 'round there, he does — ist growls an' goes 

"lVooh!—woo-ooh!" all the time! An' Little Boy 

He haf to stay up in the tree — all night — 

An' 'thout no supper neither! — Only they 

Wuz apples on the tree! — An' Little Boy 

Et apples— ist all night— an' cried— an' cried ! 



169 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Nen when 'tuz morning th' old Bear went "IVooh!" 
Agin, an' try to climb up in the tree 
An' git the Little Boy.— But he cant 
Climb t'save his soul, he can't! — An' oh! he's mad /— 
He ist tear up the ground! an' go " IVoo-ooh!" 
An'— O/j, yes! — purty soon, when morning's come 
All light — so's you kin see, you know, — w'y, nen 
The old Bear finds the Little Boy's gun, you know, 
'At's on the ground. — (An' it ain't broke at all — 
I ist said that!) An' so the old Bear think 
He'll take the gun an' shoot the Little Boy : — 
But Bears they don't know much 'bout shootin' guns: 
So when he go to shoot the Little Boy, 
The old Bear got the other end the gun 
Agin his shoulder, 'stid o' Mother end- 
So when he try to shoot the Little Boy, 
It shot the Bear, it did— an' killed him dead ! 
An' nen the Little Boy dumb down the tree 

170 



THE BEAR STORT 

An' chopped his old wooly head off: — Yes, an' killed 

The other Bear agin, he did— an' killed 

All hoff the bears, he did — an' tuk 'em home 

An' cooked 'em, too, an' et 'em ! 

—An' that's all. 



171 



T 



THE PATHOS OF APPLAUSE 

HE greeting of the company throughout 
Was like a jubilee, — the children's shout 
And fusillading hand-claps, with great guns 
And detonations of the older ones, 
Raged to such tumult of tempestuous joy, 
It even more alarmed than pleased the boy; 
Till, with a sudden twitching lip, he slid 
Down to the floor and dodged across and hid 
His face against his mother as she raised 
Him to the shelter of her heart, and praised 
His story in low whisperings, and smoothed 
The "amber-colored hair," and kissed, and soothed 
And lulled him back to sweet tranquillity— 
"And 'ats a sign 'at you're the Ma fer me! " 

172 



THE PATHOS OF APPLAUSE 

He lisped, with gurgling ecstasy, and drew 
Her closer, with shut eyes; and feeling, too, 
If he could only purr now like a cat, 
He would undoubtedly be doing that ! 

"And now"— the serious host said, lifting there 
A hand entreating silence; — "now, aware 
Of the good promise of our Traveler guest 
To add some story with and for the rest, 
I think I favor you, and him as well, 
Asking a story I have heard him tell, 
And know its truth, in each minute detail:" 
Then leaning on his guest's chair, with a hale 
Hand-pat by way of full indorsement, he 
Said, "Yes — the Free-Slave story— certainly." 

The old man, with his waddy notebook out, 
Au4 flittering spectacles, glanced round about 

173 



A CHILD-WORLD 

The expectant circle, and still firmer drew 
His hat on, with a nervous cough or two: 
And, save at times the big hard words, and tone 
Of gathering passion— all the speaker's own, — 
The tale that set each childish heart astir 
Was thus told by "The Noted Traveler." 



*74 



TOLD BY "THE NOTED TRAVELER" 

ZOOMING, clean from the Maryland-end 
Of this great National Road of ours, 
Through your vast West; with the time to spend, 
Stopping for days in the main towns, where 
Every citizen seemed a friend, 
And friends grew thick as the wayside flowers, — 
I found no thing that I might narrate 
More singularly strange or queer 
Than a thing I found in your sister-state 
Ohio, — at a river-town— down here 
In my notebook : Zanesville — situate 
On the stream Muskingum — broad and clear, 
And navigable, through half the year, 
North, to Coshocton; south, as far 
As Marietta. — But these facts are 

175 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Not of the story, but the scene 

Of the simple little tale 1 mean 

To tell directly — from this, straight through 

To the end that is best worth listening to : 

Eastward of Zanesville, two or three 
Miles from the town, as our stage drove in, 
I on the driver's seat, and he 
Pointing out this and that to me, — 
On beyond us — among the rest — 
A grovey slope, and a fluttering throng 
Of little children, which he "guessed" 
Was a picnic, as we caught their thin 
High laughter, as we drove along, 
Clearer and clearer. Then suddenly 
He turned and asked, with a curious grin, 
What were my views on Slavery? "IVhy?" 
I asked, in return, with a wary eye. 

176 



TOLD BT "THE NOTED TRAVELER" 

"Because," he answered, pointing his whip 
At a little, whitewashed house and shed 
On the edge of the road by the grove ahead, — 
" Because there are two slaves there" he said — 
" Two Black slaves that I've passed each trip 
For eighteen years. — Though they've been set free, 
They have been slaves ever since ! " said he. 
And, as our horses slowly drew 
Nearer the little house in view, 
All briefly I heard the history 
Of this little old Negro woman and 
Her husband, house and scrap of land ; 
How they were slaves and had been made free 
By their dying master, years ago 
In old Virginia; and then had come 
North here into a free state — so, 
Safe forever, to found a home — 
For themselves alone? — for they left South there 
12 177 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Five strong sons, who had, alas! 

All been sold ere it came to pass 

This first old master with his last breath 

Had freed the parents.— (He went to death 

Agonized and in dire despair 

That the poor slave children might not share 

Their parents' freedom. And wildly then 

He moaned for pardon and died. Amen !) 

Thus, with their freedom, and little sum 
Of money left them, these two had come 
North, full twenty long years ago; 
And, settling there, they had hopefully 
Gone to work, in their simple way, 
Hauling — gardening — raising sweet 
Corn, and popcorn.— Bird and bee 
In the garden-blooms and the apple-tree 
Singing with them throughout the slow 

178 



TOLD BY "THE NOTED TRA VELER' } 

Summer's day, with its dust and heat— 
The crops that thirst and the rains that fail ; 
Or in Autumn chill, when the clouds hung low, 
And hand-made hominy might find sale 
In the near town-market ; or baking pies 
And cakes, to range in alluring show 
At the little window, where the eyes 
Of the Movers' children, driving past, 
Grew fixed, till the big white wagons drew 
Into a halt that would sometimes last 
Even the space of an hour or two — 
As the dusty, thirsty travelers made 
Their noonings there in the beeches' shade 
By the old black Aunty's spring-house, where, 
Along with its cooling draughts, were found 
Jugs of her famous sweet spruce-beer, 
Served with her gingerbread-horses there. 



179 



A CHILD-WORLD 

While Aunty's snow-white cap bobbed 'round 
Till the children's rapture knew no bound, 
As she sang and danced for them, quavering clear 
And high the chant of her old slave-days— 

"Oh, Lo'd, Jinny! my toes is so', 
Dancin' on yo' sandy flo'l" 

Even so had they wrought all ways 

To earn the pennies, and hoard them, too, — 

And with what ultimate end in view? — 

They were saving up money enough to be 

Able, in time, to buy their own 

Five children back. 

Ah ! the toil gone through ! 
And the long delays and the heartaches, too, 
And self-denials that they had known ! 
But the pride and glory that was theirs 
When they first hitched up their shackly cart 

1 80 



TOLD BY "THE NOTED TRAVELER" 

For the long, long journey South. — The start 
In the first drear light of the chilly dawn, 
With no friends gathered in grieving throng,— 
With no farewells and favoring prayers; 
But, as they creaked and jolted on, 
Their chiming voices broke in song— 

" ' Hail, all hail! don't you see the stars a-fallin'? 
Hail, all hail ! I'm on my way. 
Gideon* am 
A healin' ba'm — 
I belong to the blood-washed army. 
Gideon am 
A healin' ba'm — 

On my way! ' " 

And their return ! — with their oldest boy 

Along with them ! Why, their happiness 

Spread abroad till it grew a joy 

Universal — It even reached 

And thrilled the town till the Church was stirred 



*Gilcad— evidently.— [Editor. 

181 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Into suspecting that wrong was wrong!— 
And it stayed awake as the preacher preached 
A Real "Love "-text that he had not long 
To ransack for in the Holy Word. 

And the son, restored, and welcomed so, 
Found service readily in the town ; 
And, with the parents, sure and slow, 
He went "saltin' de cole cash down." 

So with the next boy — and each one 
In turn, till four of the five at last 
Had been bought back ; and, in each case, 
With steady work and good homes not 
Far from the parents, they chipped in 
To the family fund, with an equal grace. 
Thus they managed and planned and wrought, 
And the old folks throve— Till the night before 

182 



TOLD BT "THE NOTED TEA VELEE" 

They were to start for the ione last son 

In the rainy dawn— their money fast 

Hid away in the house, — two mean, 

Murderous robbers burst the door. 

. . . Then, in the dark, was a scuffle — a fall — 

An old man's gasping cry — and then 

A woman's fife-like shriek. 

. . . Three men 
Splashing by on horseback heard 
The summons : And in an instant all 
Sprung to their duty, with scarce a word. 
And they were in time — not only to save 
The lives of the old folks, but to bag 
Both the robbers, and buck-and-gag 
And land them safe in the county-jail — 
Or, as Aunty said, with a blended awe 
And subtlety, — "Safe in de calaboose whah 
De dawgs caint bite 'em ! " 

183 



A CHILD-WORLD 

— So prevail 
The faithful !— So had the Lord upheld 
His servants of both deed and prayer,— 
HIS the glory unparalleled— 
Theirs the reward,— their every son 
Free, at last, as the parents were ! 
And, as the driver ended there 
In front of the little house, I said, 
All fervently, "Well done! well done!" 
At which he smiled, and turned his head 
And pulled on the leaders' lines and— "See!" 
He said, — '"you can read old Aunty's sign?" 
And, peering down through these specs of mine 
On a little, square board-sign, I read : 

" Stop, traveler, if you think it fit, 
And quench your thirst for a-fip-and-a-bit.— 
The rocky spring is very clear, 
And soon converted into beer." 

184 



TOLD BT "THE NOTED TRAVELER" 

And, though I read aloud, I could 
Scarce hear myself for laugh and shout 
Of children — a glad multitude 
Of little people, swarming out 
Of the picnic-grounds I spoke about. — 
And in their rapturous midst, I see 
Again — through mists of memory — 
A black old Negress laughing up 
At the driver, with her broad lips rolled 
Back from her teeth, chalk-white, and gums 
Redder than reddest red-ripe plums. 
He took from her hand the lifted cup 
Of clear spring-water, pure and cold, 
And passed it to me : And I raised my hat 
And drank to her with a reverence that 
My conscience knew was justly due 
The old black face, and the old eyes, too — 
The old black head, with its mossy mat 

185 



A CHILD-WORLD 

Of hair, set under its cap and frills 

White as the snows on Alpine hills ; 

Drank to the old black smile, but yet • 

Bright as the sun on the violet, — 

Drank to the gnarled and knuckled old 

Black hands whose palms had ached and bled 

And pitilessly been worn pale 

And white almost as the palms that hold 

Slavery's lash while the victim's wail 

Fails as a crippled prayer might fail. — 

Aye, with a reverence infinite, 

I drank to the old black face and head — 

The old black breast with its life of light — 

The old black hide with its heart of gold. 



1 86 



HEAT LIGHTNING 

n^HERE was a curious quiet for a space 
Directly following : and in the face 
Of one rapt listener pulsed the flush and glow 
Of the heat-lightning that pent passions throw 
Long ere the crash of speech. — He broke the spell — 
The host : — The Traveler's story, told so well, 
He said, had wakened there within his breast 
A yearning, as it were, to know the rest— 
That all unwritten sequence that the Lord 
Of Righteousness must write with flame and sword,. 
Some awful session of His patient thought- 
Just then it was, his good old mother caught 
His blazing eye — so that its fire became 
But as an ember — though it burned the same. 

187 



A CHILD- WORLD 

It seemed to her, she said, that she had heard 
It was the Heavenly Parent never erred, 
And not the earthly one that had such grace: 
" Therefore, my son," she said, with lifted face 
And eyes, " let no one dare anticipate 
The Lord's intent. While He waits, we will wait." 
And with a gust of reverence genuine 
Then Uncle Mart was aptly ringing in — 
ut If the darkened heavens lower, 

Wrap thy cloak around thy form ; 
Though the tempest rise in power, 

God is mightier than the storm r " 
Which utterance reached the restive children all 
As something humorous. And then a call 
For him to tell a story, or to "say 
A funny piece." His face fell right away: 
He knew no story worthy. Then he must 
Declaim for them : In that, he could not trust 

1 88 



HE A T LIGHTNING 

His memory. And then a happy thought 

Struck some one, who reached in his vest and brought 

Some scrappy clippings into light and said 

There was a poem of Uncle Mart's he read 

Last April in "The Sentinel" He had 

It there in print, and knew all would be glad 

To hear it rendered by the author. 

And, 
All reasons for declining at command 
Exhausted, the now helpless poet rose 
And said : " I am discovered, I suppose. 
Though 1 have taken all precautions not 
To sign my name to any verses wrought 
By my transcendent genius, yet, you see, 
Fame wrests my secret from me bodily ; 
So I must needs confess I did this deed 
Of poetry red-handed, nor can plead 



189 



A CHILD-WORLD 

One whit of unintention in my crime — 

My guilt of rhythm and my glut of rhyme. — 

"'Maeonides rehearsed a tale of arms, 

And Naso told of curious metawzwrphoses ; 
Unnumbered pens have pictured woman's charms, 
While crazy /'ve made poetry on purposes!' 

In other words, I stand convicted — need 
I say — by my own doing, as I read. " 



190 



H 



UNCLE MART'S POEM 

THE OLD SNOW-MAN 

O ! the old Snow-Man 

That Noey Bixler made! 
He looked as fierce and sassy 

As a soldier on parade ! — 
'Cause Noey, when he made him, 

While we all wuz gone, you ste, 
He made him, jist a-purpose, 
Jist as fierce as he could be! — 

But when we all got ust to him, 

Nobody wuz afraid 
Of the old Snow-Man 
That Noey Bixler made! 

'Cause Noey told us 'bout him 
And what he made him fer:— 

191 



A CHILD-WORLD 

He'd come to feed, that morning 

He found we wuzn't here ; 
And so the notion struck him, 

When we all come taggin' home 
Tud s'prise us ef a' old Snow-Man 

'Ud meet us when we come! 
So, when he'd fed the stock, and milked, 

And ben back home, and chopped 
His wood, and et his breakfast, he 
Jist grabbed his mitts and hopped 
Right in on that-air old Snow-Man 

That he laid out he'd make 
Er bust a trace a-ttyin 1 — jist 
Fer old-acquaintance sake! — 

But work like that wuz lots more fun, 

He said, than when he played ! 
Ho ! the old Snow-Man 
That Noey Bixler made ! 
192 



UNCLE MART'S POEM 

He started with a big snow-ball, 

And rolled it all around ; 
And as he rolled, more snow 'ud stick 

And pull up off the ground. — 
He rolled and rolled all round the yard — 

'Cause we could see the track, 
All wher' the snow come off, you know, 

And left it wet and black. 
He got the Snow-Man's legs-part rolled — 

In front the kitchen-door, — 
And then he hat to turn in then 

And roll and roll some more ! — 
He rolled the yard all round agin, 

And round the house, at that — 
Clean round the house and back to wher' 

The blame legs-half wuz at! 

He said he missed his dinner, too— 
Jist clean fergot and stayed 
13 193 



A CHILD-WORLD 

There workin'. Ho! the old Snow-Man 
That Noey Bixler made ! 

And Noey said he hat to hump 

To git the top-half on 
The legs-half 7— When he did, he said, 

His wind wuz purt'-nigh gone. — 
He said, I jucks ! he jist drapped down 

There on the old porch-floor 
And panted like a dog ! — And then 

He up! and rolled some more! — 
The last batch — that wuz fer his head, — 

And— time he'd got it right 
And dumb and fixed it on, he said — 

He hat to quit fer night! — 
And then, he said, he'd kep' right on 

Ef they'd ben any moon 



194 



UNCLE MARTS POEM 

To work by! So he crawled in bed — 
And could a-slep' tel noon, 

He wuz so plum wore out ! he said, 

But it wuz washin'-day, 
And hat to cut a cord o' wood 
'Fore he could git away ! 

But, last, he got to work agin, — 

With spade, and gouge, and hoe, 
And trowel, too — (All tools 'ud do 

What No*y said, you know !) 
He cut his eyebrows out like cliffs — 

And his cheekbones and chin 
Stuck furder out — and his old nose 

Stuck out as fur-agin ! 
He made his eyes o' walnuts, 

And his whiskers out o' this 

Here buggy-cushion stuffin'— moss, 

The teacher says it is. 

195 



A CHILD-WORLD 

And then he made a' old wood'-gun, 

Set keerless-like, you know, 
Acrost one shoulder — kindo' like 
Big Foot, er Adam Poe — 
Er, mayby, Simon Girty, 

The dinged old Renegade! 
IVooh! the old Snow-Man 
That Noey Bixler made! 

And there he stood, all fierce and grim, 

A stern, heroic form : 
What was the winter blast to him, 

And what the driving storm ? — 
What wonder that the children pressed 

Their faces at the pane 
And scratched away the frost, in pride 

To look on him again? — 



196 



UNCLE MARTS POEM 

What wonder that, with yearning bold, 

Their all of love and care 
Went warmest through the keenest cold 

To that Snow-Man out there ! 

But the old Snow-Man — 
What a dubious delight 

He grew at last when Spring came on 
And days waxed warm and bright. — 

Alone he stood— all kith and kin 
Of snow and ice were gone ; — 

Alone, with constant teardrops in 
His eyes and glittering on 

His thin, pathetic beard of black- 
Grief in a hopeless cause ! — 

Hope — hope is for the man that dies — 
What for the man that thaws! 



197 



A CHILD-WORLD 

O Hero of a hero's make! — 
Let marble melt and fade, 

But never you — you old Snow-Man 
That Noey Bixler made! 



198 



"LITTLE JACK JANITOR 



ti 



A 



ND there, in that ripe Summer-night, once more 

A wintry coolness through the open door 

And window seemed to touch each glowing face 

Refreshingly ; and, for a fleeting space, 

The quickened fancy, through the fragrant air, 

Saw snowflakes whirling where the roseleaves were, 

And sounds of veriest jingling bells again 

Were heard in tinkling spoons and glasses then. 

Thus Uncle Mart's old poem sounded young 
And crisp and fresh and clear as when first sung, 
Away back in the wakening of Spring 
When his rhyme and the robin, chorusing, 
Rumored, in duo-fanfare, of the soon 
Invading johnny-jump-ups, with platoon 

199 



A CHILD-WORLD 

On platoon of sweet-williams, marshaled fine 
To bloomed blarings of the trumpet-vine. 

The poet turned to whisperingly confer 

A moment with "The Noted Traveler," 

Then left the room, tripped up the stairs, and then 

An instant later reappeared again, 

Bearing a little, lacquered box, or chest, 

Which, as all marked with curious interest, 

He gave to the old Traveler, who in 

One hand upheld it, pulling back his thin 

Black lustre coat-sleeves, saying he had sent 

Up for his " Magic Box," and that he meant 

To test it there— especially to show 

The Children. "It is empty now, you know." — 

He thumped it with his knuckles, so they heard 

The hollow sound— "But lest it be inferred 



200 



''LITTLE JACK JANITOR' 7 

It is not really empty, I will ask 
Little Jack Janitor, whose pleasant task 
It is to keep it ship-shape." 

Then he tried 
And rapped the little drawer in the side, 
And called out sharply "Are you in there, Jack?'' 
And then a little, squeaky voice came back, — 
"Of course Vm in here — airft you got the hey 
Turned on me ! ' ' 

Then the Traveler leisurely 
Felt through his pockets, and at last took out 
The smallest key they ever heard about! — 
It wasn't any longer than a pin : 
And this at last he managed to fit in 
The little keyhole, turned it, and then cried, 
"Is everything swept out clean there inside?' 



201 



A CHILD-WORLD 

"Open the drawer and see!— Don 't talk so 'much; 

Or else," the little voice squeaked, " talk in Dutch— 

You age me, asking questions!" 

Then the man 
Looked hurt, so that the little folks began 
To feel so sorry for him, he put down 
His face against the box and had to frown. — 
"Come, sir!" he called, — "no impudence to tne! — 
You've swept out clean?" 

"Open the drawer and see!* 1 
And so he drew the drawer out: Nothing there, 
But just the empty drawer, stark and bare. 
He shoved it back again, with a shark click.— 

"Ouch!" yelled the little voice — " un-snap it — quick! — 
You've got my nose pinched in the crack!" 

And then 
The frightened man drew out the drawer again, 

202 



"LITTLE JACK JANITOR" 

The little voice exclaiming, u ]eemi-nee! — 

Say what you want, hut please don't murder me!' 

"Well, then," the man said, as he closed the drawer 
With care, " 1 want some cotton-batting for 
My supper! Have you got it?" 

And inside, 
Ail muffled like, the little voice replied, 
"Open the drawer and see ! " 

And, sure enough, 
He drew it out, filled with the cotton stuff. 
He then asked for a candle to be brought 
And held for him : and tuft by tuft he caught 
And lit the cotton, and, while blazing, took 
It in his mouth and ate it, with a look 
Of purest satisfaction. 

"Now," said he, 
"I've eaten the drawer empty, let me see 

203 



A CHILD-WORLD 

What this is in my mouth : " And with both hands 

He began drawing from his lips long strands 

Of narrow silken ribbons, every hue 

And tint;— and crisp they were and bright and new 

As if just purchased at some Fancy-Store. 

"And now, Bub, bring your cap," he said, "before 

Something might happen ! " And he stuffed the cap 

Full of the ribbons. " There, my little chap, 

Hold tight to them," he said, "and take them to 

The ladies there, for they know what to do 

With all such rainbow finery ! " 

He smiled 
Half sadly, as it seemed, to see the child 

Open his cap first to his mother There 

Was not a ribbon in it anywhere! 
"Jack Janitor!" the man said sternly through 
The Magic Box— "Jack Janitor, did you 
Conceal those ribbons anywhere?" 

204 



"LITTLE JACK JANITOR" 

"Well, yes," 
The little voice piped—" but you'd never guess 
The place I hid 'em if you'd guess a year /" 

"Well, won't you tell me?" 

"Not until you clear 
Your mean old conscience," said the voice, "'and make 
Me first do something for the Children'' s sake." 



a 



Well, then, fill up the drawer," the Traveler said, 
" With whitest white on earth and reddest red !— 
Your terms accepted — Are you satisfied?" 



<< 



Open the drawer and see !" the voice replied. 



"Why, bless my soul!" — the man said, as he drew 
The contents of the drawer into view— 



205 



A CHILD-WORLD 

" It's level-full of candy /—Pass it 'round — 
Jack Janitor shan't steal that, I'll be bound!" — 
He raised and crunched a stick of it and smacked 
His lips. — " Yes, that is candy, for a fact! — 
And it's all yours!" 

And how the children there 
Lit into it ! — O never anywhere 
Was such a feast of sweetness ! 

"And now, then," 
The man said, as the empty drawer again 
Slid to its place, he bending over it, — 
" Now, then, Jack Janitor, before we quit 
Our entertainment for the evening, tell 
Us where you hid the ribbons — can't you?" 

" WelU" 
The squeaky little voice drawled sleepily — 
Under your old hat, maybe. — Look and see!" 



206 



k ' 



u 



"LITTLE JACK JANITOR" 

All carefully the man took off his hat: 

But there was not a ribbon under that. — 

He shook his heavy hair, and all in vain 

The old white hat — then put it on again : 

" Now, tell me, honest. Jack, where did you hide 

The ribbons?" 

"Under your hat" the voice replied.- 
"Mind! I said l under ' and not ' in* it. — WonH 
You ever take the hint on earth ? — or don't 
You want to show folks where the ribbons at ? — 
Law! but Vm sleepy! — Under — unner your hat!" 

Again the old man carefully took off 
The empty hat, with an embarrassed cough, 
Saying, all gravely to the children : " You 
Must promise not to laugh— you'll all want to — 
When you see where Jack Janitor has dared 
To hide those ribbons— when he might have spared 

207 



A CHILD-WORLD 

My feelings.— But no matter!— Know the worst- 
Here are the ribbons, as I feared at first." — 
And, quick as snap of thumb and finger, there 
The old man's head had not a sign of hair, 
And in his lap a wig of iron-gray 
Lay, stuffed with all that glittering array 
Of ribbons. . . " Take 'em to the ladies— Yes. 
Good-night to everybody, and God bless 
The Children." 

In a whisper no one missed 
The Hired Man yawned : " He's a vantrilloquist." 

■ ••••••••» 

SO GLORIED all the night. Each trundle-bed 
And pallet was enchanted— each child-head 
Was packed with happy dreams. And long before 
The dawn's first far-off rooster crowed, the snore 



20& 



FINALE 

Of Uncle Mart was stilled, as round him pressed 
The bare arms of the wakeful little guest 
That he had carried home with him. . . . 

"I think," 
An awed voice said — "(No: I don't want a dwink. — 
Lay still.)— I think 'The Noted Traveler' he 
'S the inscrutibul-est man I ever see!" 



209 



©ur 

IRecent 
publications 



THE BOIVEN-MERRILL CO* 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY 

1897 



The Conquest of the Northwest 
1778=1783, and Life of 
General Geo, Rogers Clark 

Hon. William H. English, whose name fif- 
teen years ago was on every tongue, and who 
stood with General Hancock as the standard- 
bearer of the Democracy, has become equally 
famous throughout the West and South dur- 
ing the last decade as an antiquarian and col- 
lector of Americana. 

After a quarter century of research, the dis- 
tinguished statesman now publishes a re- 
markable narrative of our contest with the 
British (1778-83), for the mastery and ulti- 
mate possession " of the country northwest 
of the River Ohio." His collection of his- 
torical material relating to this romantic con- 
quest is probably the largest extant. 

Embodied in the work is the only complete 
life of General George Rogers Clark. 

Sold by subscription. In two volumes, 
octavo, on fine paper, handsomely bound, 
with numerous illustrations; reproductions 
of rare portraits, paintings and ancient land- 
marks; fac-similes of historical documents, 
letters, maps, etc. Price for the set, $6.00 net, 
delivered to any address,express prepaid by us. 

THE BOIVEN-MERRIU CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 



IRicbarfc W* Thompson 

Personal Recollections 
Washington to Lincoln. 

Including the administrations of sixteen Presidents of 
the United States. 



Col. Richard W. Thompson has known 
personally every President of the United 
States but the first two, Washington and 
John Adams, and also many leaders of the 
American Revolution, among them being 
Lafayette. He knew Jefferson sixty-seven 
j^ears ago, and was present at the inaugura- 
tion of Andrew Jackson. He was president 
of the famous Panama Commission, is the 
oldest living member of Congress but one, 
and during the administration of Hayes he 
entered the cabinet as Secretary of the Navy. 
At the close of this long and brilliant career, 
Col. Thompson has given to the world his 
own personal recollections of the Presidents, 
in which he does not refer to documents, but 
draws entirely upon the wonderful resources 
of his memory. It is remarkably full and 
accurate as to the origin and growth of po- 
litical parties. 

Bound in Buckram, gilt top, with numerous 
full page portraits in photogravure. Edition 
de Luxe, 2 vols., buckram, $6; half leather, 
$8; half calf, $9; full leather, $12. 

THE BOIVEN-MERRILL CO. 
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XTbe TKHorfes of 

James Wbitcoml) IRile^ 

Neghborly Poems 

Thirty-six poems in Hoosier dialect, includ- 
ing " The Old Swimmin' Hole and ' Leven 
More Poems, by Benjamin F. Johnson, of 
Boone," with eight half-tone illustrations. 
i2mo. cloth, $1.25; half calf, $2.50; full mo- 
rocco, $5.00. 

Benjamin F. Johnson, of Boone — a " rare 
Ben Johnson," indeed — fathered these cute 
country whims, some of the best that the 
truest poet of to-day has given the world, in 
the quaint dressing of the Hoosier dialect. — 
Evening News, Buffalo. 

The poems included in this neat volume are 
idiomatic, droll and charming. They depict 
common things in an unusually natural way 
and touch many sympathetic chords. — The 
Treasury, New York. 

Mr. Riley, more than any other American 
poet who has essayed this style of poetic 
writing, has enriched this peculiar field with 
gems that will constitute a permanent part 
of our literature. — Omaha Bee. 

THE BOIVEN-MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 



TLbc Wlovks of 

Barnes Wbitcomt) 1Rile$> 

Sketches in Prose 

Originally published as "The Boss Girl 
and Other Stories." Twelve graphic 
stories, each prefaced by a poem. i2mo. 
cloth, $1.25; half calf, $2.50; full morocco, 
$5.00. 

When Mr. Riley publishes a new book the 
people who read rejoice. This last volume of 
his is as refreshing as a May morning, and is 
full of charming pen pictures, dainty bits of 
landscapes, homelike turnings of white paths 
through green fields are suggested with an 
almost pathetic vividness. There are some 
more of his delightful child studies, the merit 
of which lies somewhat in the wonderful 
child dialect, but mainly in the accurate and 
true interpretation of child-character. The 
poet understands the child perfectly, and 
places himself before us with absolute justice 
and a splendid sympathy for his most child- 
ish whims. Mr. Riley has discovered child- 
lore, and he has shown the true child-lore, 
and made us see the relation between it and 
folk-lore,— IVfostfw Library Magazine, 



THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO, 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 



tTfoe TKlorfes of 

James HSUrftcomb IRilep 

Afterwhiles 

Sixty-two poems and sonnets, serious, 
pathetic, humorous and dialect, with frontis- 
piece. i2mo. cloth, $1.25; half calf, $2.50; 
full morocco, $5.00. 

It is easy, from his book of poems, After- 
whiles, to see how the work of Mr. James 
Whitcomb Riley has grown so widely popu- 
lar in the United States. Mostly his verse 
resembles Poe. But much more than that 
author he gives expression to the child-like 
simplicity which distinguishes Brother Jona- 
than among the nations in all matters of art. 
The poems in dialect are more enjoyable than 
the others for their humor and character. — 
The Scotsman, Edinburg. 

Mr. Riley has discovered the essential 
beauty of nature in the fields, and of pathos 
and sentiment in the heart of man, and has 
interpreted it with a fidelity and simplicity 
which will make his poetry live long after 
the elegant transcription from books and the 
inspirations from foreign life have faded away 
into the nothingness which is the doom of all 
artificial and imitation. — Providence Jour- 
nal. 

THE BOWEN-MERRILl CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 



Ufoe TKHorfts of 

James Mbftcomb 1RUe£ 

Pipes o* Pan 

Five sketches and fifty poems. The sketches 
are separated by four books of twelve poems 
each, with frontispiece. i2mo. cloth, $1.25; 
half calf, $2.50; full morocco, $5.00. 

His work in prose is really exquisite, though 
comparatively few are acquainted with it. 
Here is the conclusion of one of his tales, 
published in the "Pipes o' Pan at Zekes- 
bury." It is as simply natural as fact, as 
delicate as truth. It is at once so probable 
and so artistic that no one would venture to 
guess whether the writer created the incident 
or whether the incident created the tale. 
Here it is: 

" Well, Annie had just stooped to lift up 
one o' the little girls when the feller turned, 
and the'r eyes met. 'Annie, my wife!' he 
says: and Annie, she kind o' gave a little yelp 
like, and^ come a flutterin' down in his arms, 
and the jug of worter rolled clean acrost the 
road, and turned a somerset and knocked the 
cob out of its mouth, and jist laid back and 
hollered « good-good-good-good-good !' like ef 
it knowed what was up, and was jist as glad 
and tickled as the rest of us." — Omaha World* 
Herald. 

THE BOIVEN-MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY, 



Zhc Tixnerfts of 

3ames Wbttcomb IRUes 

Rhymes of Childhood 

One hundred and two dialect and serious 
poems. Not for children only, but of child- 
hood days, with frontispiece. i2mo. cloth, 
$1.25; half calf, $2.50; full morocco, $5.00. 



James Whitcomb Riley's Rhymes of 
Childhood would be pronounced as ad- 
dressed to grown people, rather than to chil- 
dren of the age and experience of those whose 
thoughts and feelings figure in these pages. 
It is a delightful book from cover to cover, 
and displays a rare insight into the habits of 
mind of the child. The dialect, too, is true to 
nature, and seldom, if ever, overdrawn. — 
Overland Monthly. 

It is impossible not to give a hearty wel- 
come to this bundle of rhyme, with its tender 
human love and its irresistible humor. Mr. 
Riley, at his best and in his narrow but at- 
tractive field, is inimitable. No poet since 
Burns has sung so close to the ear of the com- 
mon people of the country. His " Hoosier" 
lyrics and his Rhymes of Childhood come 
very near to the line of perfection. — New 
York Independe7it. 

THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 



TEbe TKHorfcs of 

James Wbitcomb 1Rile£ 

The Flying Islands of the Night 

A weird and grotesque drama in verse, 
Fantastic, quaint and ingenious. i2mo. cloth, 
$1.25; half calf, $2.50; full morocco, $5.00. 



As the author states, this is "Thynge of 
Wytchencrof — an Idle Dreme." This latest 
production of the popular Western author 
is a dramatic poem in three acts. The verse, 
while being neither heroic nor lyric, partakes 
of the character of both. The entire poem is 
of the nature of a burlesque vp\o,.-~~Philadel~ 
fikia Item. 

A weird and grotesque drama in verse, 
In this book Mr. Riley's peculiar genius dis- 
plays a force and continuity not intimated in 
any previous work. The argument and plot 
are radically different from any known drama, 
fantastical in the highest degree, and beyond 
question, his most remarkably quaint and 
peculiar work, since in it he displays a spirit 
of ingenuity together with a depth and height 
of imagination that his work has never hith- 
erto suggested.— -Balti7nore News* 

THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO, 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 



XTbe Works ot 

James HWbftcoml) IRfles 

Green Fields and Running Brooks 

One hundred and two poems and sonnets, 
dialect, humorous and serious. l2mo. cloth, 
$1.25; half calf, $2.50; full morocco, $5.00. 



Green Fields and Running Brooks 
is the latest volume of James Whitcomb 
Riley's poems we receive from the Bowen- 
Merrill Company, of Indianapolis. It is an 
enticing title, and its promise and allurement 
is well fulfilled in its pages. Mr. Riley is a 
singer by nature, and of nature human and 
extrahuman, and he has given no truer and 
sweeter songs to us than are in this book.— 
Republican, Springfield. 

Under the pretty title, Green Fields and 
Running Brooks — a phrase which almost 
insists on continuing itself into " Sermons 
in Stones" — the most recent productions of 
James Whitcomb Riley come to us, and prove 
the Hoosier bard to be very prolific, as well 
as a very sweet singer. — Christian Union? 
New Tork, 



THE BOIVEN-MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 



XTbe TKHorfes of 

5ames Wbftcomb iRiles 

Armazindy 

Contains some of Mf. Riley's latest and best 
dialect and serious work, including "Arma- 
zindy" and the famous Poe Poem. r2mo. 
cloth, uniform with his other books, $1.25; 
half calf, $2.50; full morocco, $5.00. 



"Mr. Riley's new book of poems, "Arma- 
zindy," includes verses in dialect and verses 
in straight English, verses to touch the heart 
and verses to tickle the ribs, verses of homely 
sentiment, and nonsense verses which are 
truly reckless and altogether delightful. 'Ar- 
mazindy' is a characteristic poem in the 
Hoosier dialect, and there are some seventy 
other poems, and one prose sketch written 
after the style of Dickens." — Current His- 
tory. 

James Whitcomb Riley's simple verse has 
won a lasting place in the hearts of old and 
young, and the reasons for this are plain. He 
has a quick and fine appreciation of the beau- 
ties of what might seem to some only the 
commonplace and humdrum side of nature, 
and he opens our eyes to see the poetry in the 
very things that have seemed to us the dullest 
of prose. — Public Opinion, Washington, D, C. 

THE BOtVEN-MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 



Ube WorKs ot 

5ames Mbftcomb IRUeg 

Old Fashioned Roses 

Sixty-one selected poems and sonnets, pub- 
lished in England. It is a dainty i6mo. 
printed on hand-made paper, with untrimmed 
edges, gilt top, and very tastefully bound in 
blue and white cloth. It contains a great 
variety of serious, humorous and dialect 
pieces, and makes a handsome presentation 
edition of some of Mr. Riley's choicest poems. 
i6mo. cloth, gilt top, untrimmed, $1.75. 



The first thing that strikes the reader with 
James Whitcomb Riley is his originality. 
Here, evidently, is a man who would have 
felt the impulse to speak tunefully and to 
touch the springs of humor and of pathos had 
he lived before the invention of alphabets. 
In the absence of books, the lessons to be 
drawn from nature and from human life 
would have sufficed. With his own hand has 
been garnered his knowledge of the outer 
and of the inner world. He has seen with 
lis own eyes, listened with his own ears, 
known in his own heart the sorrows and joys 
that he depicted. His landscapes are tran- 
scripts of his native woods and fields. — New 
Torh Sun, 

THE BOIVEN-MERRILL CO, 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 



XTbe Worfcs of 

James Mbttcomb 1RUe£ 

An Old Sweetheart of Mine 

Illustrated with colored and monotint plates. 
The engravings are by the best artists of Bos- 
ton, and the book is handsomely bound in- 
cloth. This favorite poem, so thoroughly en- 
joyed by the thousands of Mr. Riley's admir- 
ers, has been sympathetically sketched and 
portrayed with such artistic skill as to make 
it one of the most beautiful books yet pub- 
lished. ioxi2 flat quarto, colored and mono- 
tint plates, combination cloth, full gilt, $2.50. 



Among the daintiest of dainty holiday 
books is the gift edition of James Whitcomb 
Riley's An Old Sweetheart of Mine. 
The text is in quaint lettering, with every 
page enriched by pretty designs from pen and 
brush. — Baltimore American. 

Each stanza fills a page, and is accompanied 
by an exquisite illustration. The paper, let- 
ter press, binding and illustrations are all of 
the finest, and the whole is an excellent speci- 
men of the bookmaker's art, and forms a fit 
setting for a poetic gem of the first water. — 
I?idianafiolis Sentinel. 



THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 






"A Guest at the Ludlow." 

Bill Nye's New Book 




A uuesTrffo 
H Ludlow 

Humorous Stories 

BY BILL NYE 

THIS VOLUME 18 BILL NYE'S LAST 
AND BEST BOOK OF FUN. IT IS ONE 
OF THE PRETTIEST BOOKS OF THE 
YEAR, BEAUTIFULLY BOUND IN RED 
AND GOLD, WITH COYER DESIGN 
LIKE ABOVE, AND NUMEROUS IL- 
LUSTRATIONS. [JUST PUBLISHED.] 
Crown 8vo, Price, $1.25 

The Bovven-MerrHS Co., IsidsanapoHs 



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